


Magic Touch 2.0

by sencire



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: A bit of Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff, Painter clarke, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:15:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28714872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sencire/pseuds/sencire
Summary: It's one of those days when all you want is peace and quiet and all you get is pain. And more pain. And it makes you so angry. Flat on her face on the forest floor, Lexa could probably tell us all about it. But then, there's this woman who appears out of nowhere and offers her help. And what was meant to be first aid for a twisted ankle might have the potential for something quite different. Only a cat seems to disagree.Lexa may not know it yet, but this could be the day fate finally decides to smile at her.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 53
Kudos: 128





	1. Chapter 1

When it happens, Lexa doesn’t even know how long she’s been walking. It’s such a pretty day and she needs to clear her head. She has picked this area of the forest in particular because there are never any people here. But then she walks further. And further. Until she realizes, she walked somewhere she has never been before.

A shape in the distance, between the trees off to her left, catches her attention and that’s why Lexa strolls off the path, deeper into the forest. Happy to have chosen the sturdy boots for her day out, she climbs over dead trees and finally scrambles up the short slope of a small hill to look out for the shape she saw. It’s still there, in the exact same spot. And at the exact same distance. Odd.

Puzzled, Lexa makes her way down the slope on the other side, using her hands to try and avoid the long branches of the bushes around her that keep snapping in her face. A sound startles her. She looks up to see a squirrel in the tree above her and stops to look at it. An acorn hits her nose. It hurts.

“Ow!” She looks up at the squirrel once more and the animal chucks another acorn down at her, looking like it takes aim first. In her surprise, Lexa doesn’t even try to move out of the way. The missile hits her shoulder and she lifts a fist at the squirrel, only to realize there are two more squirrels up there now and none of them looks friendly.

“Okay, guys,” Lexa says, more to herself than the animals and takes a few steps backwards to retreat. That’s why she doesn’t see the branch and walks right into it, tangling her hair in it. She pulls at it, and pulls harder, but only ends up with her face getting scratched by smaller twigs. With a yank, she finally manages to free her hair and she huffs in annoyance. Taking a moment to reorient herself, she debates whether she really needs to check out what she saw in the distance or whether it’s safer to just walk back to the path. She turns, apparently not careful enough because she slips and falls on her side, sliding down the rest of the slope.

“Ah, god damn, what is it with this forest?” she yells and scrambles back up to her feet. She looks around. A cuckoo cuckoo's in the distance or maybe it's an owl. Probably plotting an attack. Lexa sighs. She looks a mess and feels like one too. She should just go back home. 

Craning her neck, she looks for the thing she has tried to reach but all she can see are trees and bushes. The shrubbery looks a lot denser now than it did when she was up on the little hill. Now it’s almost like a wall. Confused and quite fed up, Lexa turns and takes a step. It is to be her last mistake of the day.

The moment her left foot catches on the root, Lexa knows it’s going to hurt. She loses her balance too fast to find something to hold on to and goes down with a muffled scream. The ground is soft with thick moss and layers of dead leaves so the initial fall doesn’t even hurt. What hurts is that her foot is still stuck and her ankle was twisted painfully when her body went in a completely different direction than she was moving in.

Groaning, Lexa tries to shift into a position that takes the strain off her ankle. Once she has managed, she carefully tries to untangle her foot from the root, gritting her teeth at the pain.

“Oh fuck,” she yelps as it finally comes free. She presses her eyes shut and leans back on her hands to take a few deep breaths and wait for the pain to subside. If she takes off her boot now and her ankle swells up, she will never be able to get back into it and – Lexa looks around – there’s no way she can stay here. She needs to get up and moving again. She‘s been out for a while, the way back will take longer if she can’t walk properly and it’s already getting gloomy. Days are short at this time of year. She pats her back pocket to look for her phone but finds it empty. It’s not on the ground anywhere near either. Lexa runs her hand through the leaves on the ground to search for it but pulls it back quickly when something needlesharp lodges itself in her thumb.

“Oww, you son of a bitch,” she swears, inspecting the rather big thorn. She pulls it out and a drop of blood appears. Lexa stares at it dumbly for a moment before putting her thumb in her mouth. The combination of dirt and blood doesn’t taste good at all. Sucking lightly, Lexa wishes she had brought a bottle of water with her. She pulls out a tissue from the pack she was smart enough to bring and wraps it around her thumb for the time being.

Something small hits the back of her head and drops onto the ground. Another acorn.

"Are you fucking serious," she screams at no-one in particular but she's sure the squirrels can hear her. She balls a fist, feeling the anger welling up inside of her. Turning her face up, she growls at the darkening sky, heavy clouds making their way in. A small squeaking sound can be heard right above her and when Lexa looks up, the squirrels are gone. She huffs again.

Now where is her goddamn phone? The last time she had it, she was still on the path. It must have slipped out somewhere between there and her current unfavorable position. Ah, damn, she should have never strayed from the path. From where she’s sitting on the forest floor, she can’t even see the way back. There’s the small hill, the one she rolled down in the end, and it blocks her view.

Lexa leans forward to press down gingerly around her ankle. If she keeps it still, it doesn’t hurt too much. But keeping still is not really an option. There’s a tree not far and Lexa pushes herself up, carefully trying not to move her ankle too much. It still hurts with every little movement and putting weight on it doesn’t work at all. Hopping on one leg, she makes it over to the tree and leans against it to catch her breath.

This will teach her to go out walking on her own in the woods again. 

She searches the ground for her phone once more but it’s gone. Lexa spots a stick though and it looks strong enough for her to lean on. Holding on to the tree with one hand, she leans down, desperately trying not fall again and reaches for the stick. Yup, that’ll work. It’s long enough so she can use both her hands to hold on to it and Lexa gives it a try, taking a couple of cautious steps towards the hill. Works. She’s almost there when the stick snaps and she falls flat on her face.

“Ah, god damn fucking fuck! Shit,” she cries out because for some reason, she landed with her hip bone on a rock and it hurts, for a second even more than her throbbing ankle.

“Do you need help?”

Lexa rolls onto her back and shifts because now the rock is poking into her bottom. She looks up to see a blonde woman who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, from behind the thick bushes. Despite the thick layer of dry leaves on the ground, Lexa heard no sound. The woman seems to enjoy kicking up the dry leaves now as she comes closer. She stops at Lexa’s feet with her hands on her hips. Lexa sits up and reaches for her foot as if that would stop the pain.

“Ah,” the woman says simply, looking down at Lexa and leaning in to get a closer look. “What happened?”

“My foot got caught on a …” Lexa trails off when the woman looks up, her eyes meeting Lexa’s and holding them for a beat, two, “root over there.” Having lost her thought for a moment, a smile forms on Lexa’s lips, matching the one the woman is giving her. A flash of pain shoots into her ankle when she tries to get up and she falls back to the ground.

“I’m sorry about that,” the woman says, clicking her tongue. “You probably shouldn’t move.”

She turns her face up and shakes her head lightly. “God damn,” she mumbles under her breath, making Lexa feel like an intruder all of a sudden.

“If you could just help me to get up,” Lexa manages to gasp when the pain subsides again. “Can’t do it on my own.”

The blonde nods knowingly.

“I’d better check nothing is broken,” she mumbles to herself. “Let me see.”

She kneels onto the ground and carefully lifts Lexa’s foot, resting it against her thigh. With one hand on the heel of Lexa boot, her fingers flutter around her ankle, pressing down occasionally. Lexa moans quietly, making the woman look up at her.

“Does this hurt?”

“Ouch!”

“Hm.”

The woman starts to move Lexa's foot slowly in small circles, causing Lexa to yelp in pain again.

“It’s very tender,” she apologizes.

“I’m sure it is. It’s swelling up too. I’m going to need to take the boot off. It'll be too painful later on.”

Supporting Lexa’s leg on her lap, the woman unties and loosens the laces. She slips off the boot gently, but the pain is still excruciating. Once the sock has come off too, the woman begins to examine Lexa’s ankle expertly.

“How about this?” The woman digs her fingertips into the sole of Lexa’s foot in various places, making Lexa giggle.

“No, that only tickles.”

“Well,” the woman says after she has finished her examination, “it seems there’s no damage to the bone. It’s probably a sprained ankle. Painful for a few days but harmless.”

Given the pain Lexa is experiencing with every tiny movement of her foot, harmless is not the word she would have chosen. The woman puts Lexa’s foot down on the ground and brushes a few stray leaves from her lap.

“You’re going to have to put your foot up and you need ice to reduce the swelling. I live nearby.” She points over her shoulder. “Right over there.”

“You live in the woods?”

The blonde tilts her head. “Is that a problem?”

Lexa shrinks a little under the look the woman gives her.

“Umm, no, of course not.”

“Let’s get you up,” the woman moves to help her, but Lexa stops her mid-movement. Now that she’s closer, she’s sure.

“I know you,” she says, not surprised to see the woman freeze. “Well, not actually in person. But I’ve seen you around town.”

More specifically, Lexa last saw her on Wednesday, sitting by the window at the coffee shop, immersed in a book, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around a finger with the coffee next to her getting cold. Lexa knows because she served her.

The blonde looks at her now, her brows furrowing. It takes a few seconds, then her face lights up with recognition.

“You’re the server.”

“I’m Lexa.”

Holding her gaze, Lexa can see the woman’s throat bob a couple of times before she speaks again.

“That’s a beautiful name. It fits you well,” she says, blushing faintly but then a smile grows on her lips and Lexa’s eyes get stuck on it. They linger a little too long before Lexa can tear them away.

“You’re Clarke Griffin.”

Last Wednesday, when Lexa spent the best part of an hour watching this woman from behind the counter whenever she had the time, she thought there was something about her. Mysterious. Detached. Pensive. Intriguing. Very interesting.

She thinks back to Anya’s comment.

“She’s out of your league, Woods,” her sister told her with a grin when she caught Lexa staring. “That one’s worth millions and you’re worth,” she shrugged and held up a cup of coffee she was just about to serve, “barely the coffee grounds needed to prepare this cup.”

“Thanks, Anya,” Lexa replied lamely. “It’s so refreshing to hear nice things about our joint enterprise.”

The part about the coffee grounds was wrong. They weren’t doing that badly. But the other part …

Clarke Griffin sat there, reading a book, detached from the world it seemed. The famous painter who lived in the forest, on her own, with just a cat. The woman everyone whispered about, who was supposed to be a little weird but brilliant with the brush which had brought her fame. She looked young as she sat there. Young and fragile, hunched over a little, the way she put a finger between the pages to remember where she was while she reached for her cup of cooled off coffee, sipping, pulling a face. She hadn’t seemed to care too much. She didn’t order another coffee, didn’t look up to wave for service, nothing. She put the cup back down and opened her book again.

“I am,” Clarke says now, her amused voice bringing Lexa back from her memories. She offers a little bow.

Up close, Clarke doesn’t look as young as she did at the shop. She’s still somewhere in her early 30s, Lexa would assume. And she doesn’t seem quite so fragile as she yanks Lexa up with a surprisingly firm grip until she stands on one leg, unsure of what to do next. The scent is the first thing Lexa notices. Clarke’s hair smells wonderful. The whole person smells wonderful. Earthy and fresh and clean as if she has just come out of the shower. Clarke steps closer and her hand comes up to pluck some dead leaves from Lexa's hair. Lexa feels the tips of her ears burn. Clarke’s eyes are on her, watching her closely and seeing Lexa blush, her face lights up with a soft smile.

“You have a beautiful smile,” Lexa blurts out. “But you can’t carry me.”

“I’m not going to carry you,” Clarke says with a mild chuckle and holds out her hands. “My beautiful smile and I are going to help you walk. Come on.”

Still balancing on one foot, Lexa hesitates to accept Clarke’s outstretched hands. When she finally does and feels Clarke’s fingers close around hers, a tingling sensation shoots up her arms and she almost loses her balance again. Lexa has to close her eyes briefly and hold her breath before she's sure the sensation is pleasant. It isn't always. But she can hold on to Clarke’s hands firmly until she feels steady again. Clarke doesn’t say anything, but Lexa can feel her eyes on her, as if trying to memorize her face. Painters do that, she supposes.

“This way?” Lexa asks to bridge the awkward silence. She’s not sure how to be now, what to do or say. Looking up, Lexa finds Clarke still studying her before she takes another step in, coming closer yet.

“Yes,” Clarke says, sliding one arm around Lexa’s waist. “It's not far, only a few minutes.”

Feeling Clarke’s arm around her, as light as the touch may be, makes Lexa gasp inwardly. It’s unexpected and intimate but that’s probably only because she’s so self-conscious in Clarke’s presence. If this were just anyone, she wouldn’t quite feel this way. So, Lexa tells herself to get a grip and straightens up as far as she can. It’s just anyone. No-one famous. Just anyone. If only.

It’s most definitely easier to stand with someone to hold on to. One arm around Lexa’s waist, Clarke brings her hand around her shoulder for extra support. It allows Lexa to keep her aching ankle off the ground altogether, although she still feels more than helpless hopping alongside Clarke as they begin to move slowly.

They make their unsteady way across the forest floor. They’re slow, doing their best to avoid tripping and Lexa catches Clarke glancing at her twice before the trees trickle out to reveal a narrow dirt road. Lexa has no idea where they are.

“We’ll just follow the road to the house,” Clarke tells her. “It’s too difficult to move through the forest. We’re almost there.”

The road eventually takes them through a tall wooden gate and Clarke stops for a moment.

"There we are."

Lexa, still concentrating on not being too much of a dead weight on Clarke’s shoulders, looks up to see the front of a log house. This is what she saw from the path. Clarke’s house! It’s set off to the side of a rather large front yard, tall trees behind it. A car is parked next to the house in an open double shed. The house itself is big and very sturdy, large beams of strong wood making up the front of it. Clarke helps her hop up the stairs onto the porch and Lexa leans against the railing, watching Clarke dig out her keys from her pocket.

“This is a nice place, a bit like a witch's hut hiding in the woods,” Lexa says, trying to catch her breath. “A witch’s mansion.”

It makes Clarke laugh and Lexa smiles because Clarke’s husky laugh is just as adorable as her smile.

“Do you live here all the time?”

“I do. Come on in. Or are you afraid I'm going to put you in the oven?”

“Were my thoughts that obvious?” Lexa can’t help but make the joke. It helps to push down the awkwardness of the situation.

“Kind of,” Clarke winks at her before helping her inside. It doesn’t look like a witch's house at all. It also doesn’t look like a millionaire’s house. It looks like the house of someone who likes warmth and softness and smooth wood. Holding on to Clarke, Lexa hobbles slowly along the corridor and through a door on the left into the living room. Colorful rugs are spread out on the floor. There are two large windows going out towards the front yard but it’s almost dark now and Lexa can’t see much outside anymore. Clarke takes a moment to walk around the dark room. She turns on a lamp on the low table in front of the couch and a bigger lamp in the corner, filling the room with a pleasantly warm light.

With a sigh of relief, Lexa lets herself fall onto the huge piece of furniture. It takes up a good part of the living room. Lexa sinks into the seating immediately. This must be the most comfortable couch she has ever had the pleasure of sitting on. If only there wasn’t the thumping pain in her ankle. Clarke leans down and pulls at something underneath the couch, producing a small table that was hidden there. She grabs a cushion from the couch and puts it on the table, then gestures for Lexa to put her leg up.

“You’ll probably want something to drink.”

Not waiting for Lexa's response, Clarke excuses herself, quickly returning with two glasses of water. She hands one to Lexa and sits down next to her. With a loud sigh, Clarke lifts the glass and empties it in one go, leaving Lexa to stare at her as she wipes her mouth. Then she meets Lexa’s stare with a wink.

“Boy, I was thirsty!”

Feeling caught out, Lexa quickly lifts her glass to her mouth, taking a few sips.

“I’m going to get you some ice now,” Clarke says and puts her hand on Lexa’s leg, just below her knee. Her thumb rubs along Lexa’s shin, indeterminable whether it’s deliberate or random and it tickles again, making Lexa’s foot twitch. She winces.

“Sorry,” Clarke says, removing her hand again. She gets up. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

With Clarke gone, Lexa has time to look around the room.

The house is even bigger than it looked from the outside. This room is quite spacious. To her left, what would be the back of the house is in fact a large glass wall with sliding doors that lead into a sunroom of sorts. Judging from the easel she can just barely make out in there, Lexa assumes it’s the studio.

There’s a large painting on the wall across from the couch, just above the small fireplace. It’s a nude of a woman's upper body, leaning back on her hands with her head thrown back. Lexa finds herself staring at the black and white painting that, despite the lack of color, is so vivid, it takes her breath away. Squinting, Lexa lets her eyes roam along the woman's body, the curve of her hips, across her stomach and her shapely breasts, her shoulders and her neck. Sadly, she can't see the face. The woman's head has fallen back, her long dark hair cascading down her back. Lexa is amazed at the details, the intimacy captured in the scene. Almost as if the woman is alive, enjoying some kind of pleasure. Lexa smirks. There is one kind of pleasure she can think of right now that would make a woman look like this. She couldn't tell, she can only see the arms, the arching chest, her fingers gripping something.

Lexa feels her heartbeat increase and her chest clenches, so she opens her mouth to help her breathe more easily. She can almost taste the love that went into the brush strokes to create this painting. She can’t look away, drawn in by the energy emanating from it. The woman's chest heaves slightly as if she has just taken a breath, her breasts lifting a little more and going down again on the exhale.

Lexa freezes and looks around the room. She's still alone so she leans a little closer, and the woman in the painting inhales again, her chest lifts, her head turns just enough for Lexa to see a high cheek bone. She’s so curious now. Could it be a self-portrait? If only she could get a little closer, but she can’t get up. A familiar tingle runs through her limbs as she allows herself to be absorbed by the painting. Lexa doesn’t even realize Clarke has returned until she moves into her line of sight, between the couch and the painting, smirking at the look on Lexa's face. Lexa blinks a couple of times, her eyes starting to water from the intense staring.

“That’s why it’s up there,” Clarke says as she sits down next to Lexa again. She glances at the painting. “I enjoy looking at it too.”

“It’s very …,” Lexa searches for the right word, letting her gaze wander across the painted woman's body again, “alive.”

“It is indeed.” Clarke smiles. “Let’s get you taken care of and then you can stare at the pretty woman some more.”

“You’re different.”

Clarke finishes putting the cool packs around Lexa's ankle before responding.

“Different from what?”

“From what people in town say about you.”

Clarke’s eyebrows twitch at that and she shrugs.

“People talk too much,” she says simply.

People do. Clarke Griffin is a loner, they say. She’s too sad. Not quite right in her head. What young woman would want to live out in the woods alone? But this woman belongs here. Even though Lexa has never been here before, she can’t picture Clarke anywhere else. This place is all Clarke. It’s the feeling Lexa gets when she looks at the woman next to her. She seems kind and warm. Wise in a way. But also like someone who likes to keep their cards up their sleeve. Like she has been burned.

Lexa blinks when she realizes she's been staring at Clarke again.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “It’s just … I would have expected your house to be a lot showier.”

Clarke gives a little laugh and looks around the room.

“I don’t care much about the money. Or status for that matter.” Her voice trails off as turns her face towards the dark windows. Clarke seems deep in though. Lexa decides to give her a moment and looks down at her hands. There’s dirt caked the back of one and she needs to clean her fingernails too. She didn’t pay attention to it before. When Clarke looks up again, Lexa hides her hands quickly.

“I just want to be myself.” Clarke pauses again, her eyes traveling through the room once more, coming to rest on Lexa’s face. “I am myself here.”

“You fit in here,” Lexa agrees, mesmerized by Clarke’s eyes looking deeply into hers. She feels an urge to lean closer but knows better than to move. Then Clarke looks away again and Lexa relaxes.

“People want me to be a certain way so they can fit me into their little boxes and put me on their narrow shelves. It’s easier for them and in a way, you can’t even blame them. This world is crazy, and a little bit of personal order makes them feel safe and in control. But I don’t want to be labeled and put on a shelf.”

The words have just tumbled from Clarke’s mouth and she looks surprised, frowns slightly, as if she’s wondering why she tells Lexa these things.

“I don’t think there’s a label that fits you.” Lexa says, shaking her head slowly.

“No?”

“No.”

“Seems like you know a thing or two about people talking.” Clarke studies her again and Lexa is beginning to feel hot under her gaze. “Are they talking about you too?”

Lexa really doesn’t want the conversation to turn her way. She would rather hear more about Clarke.

“I’m not letting them,” is Lexa’s scarce reply and she’s determined to leave it at that.

“Are they letting you do that?” Clarke wonders, cocking her head slightly, her intense stare still on Lexa’s face. Lexa’s heart is beating violently in her chest.

“I only moved here a few months ago,” she says quietly. “I’m not from around here.”

“Neither am I.” Clarke smiles quietly. “Why did you pick this town?”

Clarke seems determined for Lexa to get talking. It’s not a conversation yet, it’s question and answer, chopped, with pauses and breaks as they each try to figure out if they’re still on firm ground.

“It’s complicated,” Lexa sighs. “Well, maybe it isn’t. I pulled out a map and closed my eyes and my finger landed on this town. So here I am.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows.

“That’s an interesting way of finding your destination.”

“Oh, it’s not my destination. It’s part of my journey.”

Clarke eyes her curiously, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“Hm,” she says eventually, “I used to say that too.”

“Not anymore?”

“Haven’t in a while. Where is your journey taking you?”

“Hopefully where I need to be,” Lexa says, smiling as she realizes there is common ground. Something tells her Clarke knows what she’s talking about. Lexa nudges her head at the painting above the fireplace.

“It’s probably a stupid question but that’s one of yours, isn’t it?”

Without turning around, Clarke nods once and scans Lexa’s face for the reaction.

“Wow,” Lexa says at a loss for better words. “It's really … fascinating. I like it.”

Clarke chuckles.

“That’s good,” she says softly, holding Lexa’s gaze for another moment. Warmth floods through Lexa’s body. She grabs a pillow and hugs it. There’s an intensity to the way Clarke looks at her that’s both unnerving and intriguing. It must be the artist’s eye, taking in things that are hidden to a regular person. An artist, so Lexa imagines, must have a different view. They must see things that are invisible to others to be able to capture them. Lexa feels anything but invisible right now. She’s not sure she likes it.

“We’ll leave the ice packs there for a little while, then I’m going to wrap the ankle. Anything you need?” Clarke’s voice brings her back to the room.

“Oh, no, thank you. You’ve already done a lot. I’m good,” Lexa says.

“I may have a pair of crutches somewhere. I’ll look for them later. A friend left them here. They’ll make it easier for you to get around the house and you can take them with you until you have your own. I’m sure you’re tired of holding on to me all the time by now.”

“No, not really.”

“You’re not?” Clarke's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Well, I mean, yes, it would be nice to be able to get around on my own. But no, I don’t mind holding on to you.”

Clarke looks at her for a moment.

“Be careful, you wouldn't want me to think you're flirting with me, would you?”

Lexa hadn’t thought it would even be possible. Or welcome. But there’s this glint in Clarke’s eyes as her hand comes up to tug a strand of hair behind her ear.

“And if I did?”

Clarke opens her mouth for a reply, but it never comes because a black cat appears out of nowhere to jump into Lexa's lap and rub its head on her arm. Yellow eyes fixate her and the cat hisses and lashes out, just barely missing her hand. Lexa jerks backwards instinctively, once again moving her ankle the wrong way and she cries out in pain. The cat gives a soft meow, jumps off her lap and disappears through the door, a distinctly arrogant wag to its tail.

“What was that?” Lexa asks as a chuckling Clarke moves to readjust the cool packs around her ankle.

“That was Raven,” Clarke says, clear amusement in her voice. “She's a bit prickly. She'll warm up to you. Probably.”

Lexa isn‘t so sure about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter. I'll go slow to get it right this time. But I’m also extremely impatient and I feel, this first chapter is just what I wanted it to be. So here you are.
> 
> Comments are, as always, very welcome ❤️


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has a magic touch. But a moment of carelessness threatens to destroy the mood. Maybe Lexa was right to be wary of the cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments, they make a writer's day 💕

”I’m going to get something to wrap up your ankle,” Clarke says once she's made sure Lexa’s ankle is properly cooled. She gets up and makes it as far as the doorway before turning to look back. A small smile plays around her mouth.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll only be a minute.” She half turns and stops again as if she just had a thought. “Oh, are you hungry?”

Lexa’s stomach growls, signaling it heard something about food. She's hungry alright. Clarke hums, biting down on her lower lip. Careful not to disturb the cool packs again, Lexa wriggles her back into the soft cushioning a little more. Luckily the pain has subsided to a mild throbbing after the cat incident.

Clarke is still looking at her.

“If you like,” she says hesitantly, moving to lean against the door frame, “you could join me for dinner before I take you back into town.”

Lexa can’t help but notice how beautiful Clarke looks in the warm light. It makes her face glow almost golden.

“I wouldn’t want to impose.” Lexa clears her throat, wondering what made her voice so hoarse.

“You’re not imposing. I asked. And I enjoy company once in a while. It would be my pleasure.”

Lexa can’t help but feel Clarke’s warmth, welcoming a stranger to her house like this. Anyone else would have just taken her back into town right away. She nods.

“So,” Clarke says, wiggling her nose once, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Thank you for being my savior,” Lexa tells her because she didn’t before when she should have. “I’m really glad you came by. I wouldn’t have known how to get home otherwise. 

Clarke shifts in the doorway, pushing her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

“But you’re still not home.” 

“You brought me a lot closer.” 

The corners of Clarke’s mouth twitch and she lowers her gaze, then her head to look at the floor but Lexa hasn't missed what looked like a huge grin. Now Clarke's hair has fallen forward and Lexa can't see her face.

“Nature hated me today. You wouldn't believe the things that happened to me before you arrived.” 

"Oh," Clarke says with her head still down but then she raises it. Her eyes find Lexa's again and the joy radiating from them is contagious. It seems to catch Clarke by surprise too, the way their eyes get stuck on each other.

She clears her throat, failing once more to hide her grin by turning her head sideways. Lexa feels a tug, or more likely a pull, something strong anyway. It drills into an empty part of her heart, one she had locked away and almost forgotten about. Lexa takes a shaky breath and when Clarke looks back at her this time, her eyes are clear again.

"It sure looked like the woods gave you a hard time today," she says. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't be. Not your fault at all."

Clarke nods, tightening her lips. "Still."

"I'm not sorry at all," Lexa says bravely, scanning Clarke's face for a reaction. But what was there before is gone again and Lexa decides not to push further. She leans back against the pillows.

“Well," Clarke pushes away from the door frame, "I’ll be right back.” She lets her eyes linger on Lexa for a moment longer and then she’s gone.

There are three large candles on the table in front of her and Lexa shifts carefully to reach for the lighter that lies there too. It would be nice to have the candles lit but before she can finish the thought, she hears Clarke’s quiet voice. She’s talking to someone. Harshly. Lexa tries to lean closer but the movement makes the ice packs slip, no matter how careful she tries to be. She can't make out the words but it's definitely Clarke's low voice. There's more whispering and then everything is quiet again. Lexa hears Clarke’s footsteps disappearing. 

Oh no. What if Clarke turns out to be a weirdo after all. Lexa flinches at the thought and decides to focus on the task at hand rather than speculating about Clarke's mental condition. It's not like Lexa never talks to herself.

The ice packs have slipped anyway so she leans forward all the way to grab the lighter. Once all candles are lit, she puts the cool packs back in place. It irritates her how dependent she is, and she wishes Clarke would come back so she wouldn’t have to sit there alone. With an annoyed grunt, Lexa looks back to the painting above the fireplace. The light from the flickering candles makes it look like the woman’s hair is moving. Her head falls back a little more. Lexa smiles to herself and leans back, looking up at the ceiling. If she’s honest, it would be far worse if she were at home alone. She might even have to call Anya over to help her. The thought of spending time with her ever-grumpy sister doesn’t feel as good as being here. She sighs and sits up straighter, lifting her arms to stretch a bit. Her spine cracks and Lexa moans quietly. The room is warm and the couch is so comfy and she’s beginning to feel really sleepy.

Clarke returns to find Lexa furiously rubbing her eyes. She carries a crutch in one hand and a rolled-up bandage in the other, stopping just inside the room when she sees Lexa.

“Tired, huh?” she says with a chuckle and leans the crutch against the table.

Lexa rubs her right eye once more and stifles a yawn.

“Your couch is just so comfortable,” she says with a smile when Clarke sits down next to her.

“You lit the candles,” Clarke notices as she removes the cool packs, flashing a soft smile at Lexa that makes her heart skip a beat. She’s tired, that’s probably why. Clarke picks up Lexa’s leg gently, shifting so she can put it down on her lap. Then she starts to roll up the leg of Lexa’s jeans, her fingers warm on cold skin. When she puts her hand down, it almost burns Lexa’s leg.

“It has to be pretty tight, so it’ll hurt a little.” Clarke's thumb strokes softly across the skin on Lexa’s ankle, causing her stomach to drop. “I’m going to put the cool packs on afterwards for a bit longer to numb the pain.”

“Okay,” Lexa manages to mumble, her eyes glued to Clarke’s hand on her leg. There’s no pressure from the slender fingers but Lexa can tell they’re strong and used to performing the most precise movements. She can see these fingers holding a brush, perfectly still, considering, before the hand moves, quickly and confidently, applying color to an empty canvas, the image already finished in Clarke’s head. Lexa glances up at the monochrome woman, certain she heard her sigh quietly. Who wouldn’t, being touched by those hands.

“You’ll have to keep your leg up for a few days and you should not put a lot of weight on it,” Clarke tells her, making Lexa look at her instead. She gestures at the crutch. “You can use it to get around, it should work just fine.”

Lexa nods, clenching her teeth while she watches Clarke wrap her ankle expertly. Even if Clarke makes sure to move it as little possible, it's still sore. Once done, Clarke puts Lexa’s leg back onto the cushion and readjusts the ice packs. She seems satisfied.

“It’s already feeling a lot better. You must have a magical touch,” Lexa says, examining the professional bandage. It’s tight and immobilizes her ankle completely, just the way it needs to be.

“I guess I do,” Clarke laughs. “My mother is a doctor. I learned a few things from her.”

Lexa remembers someone telling her the reason for Clarke moving here was her family not being too happy with her choice of occupation. Once she started to be successful, it was Clarke who didn’t want to get back in touch with them. So at least that bit of local talk may have some truth to it.

“Do you live here all alone?” Lexa asks. “I’m not one hundred percent sure where we are but I’d say we’re pretty deep in the forest.”

“It’s not that bad,” Clarke says, meeting Lexa’s gaze. “About half an hour by car. I was surprised to find you walking out here though. It’s quite a hike.”

Lexa thinks for a moment. Half an hour by car. That means she walked so much further than she thought.

“You’re safe here, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Clarke raises her eyebrows. “There’s only me and Raven. And a very good alarm system.”

Lexa isn’t worried about Clarke.

“The only thing I’m worried about is your cat,” she jokes, enjoying Clarke’s smirk. She turns her eyes down, making Lexa wonder if she’s shy suddenly.

In the silence that follows, Lexa hears the tall grandfather clock next to the couch count the seconds. The sound of time running away like this would normally annoy her. Ticking clocks have always annoyed her, especially when they are big with loud clockworks like this one. Lexa doesn’t own a watch and there’s no clock on any wall in her small apartment. There is one on the back wall of the coffee shop and other than that, she can always rely on her phone or Anya to tell her she’s late. But strangely, here, the ticking just fits in with everything else. It measures a pause filled with Clarke’s smile and tiny stars in her eyes, a pleasure to look at whenever their gazes meet. Once again, Lexa needs a lot of will power to pull her eyes away because if it were up to her, the calm she feels could last forever.

“I’m glad you chose to let me feed you before I take you back into town.”

Lexa feels a smile spread across her face. She does nothing to stop it. She hasn’t smiled this much in ages.

“Are you sure you’re going to let me go again once I’m fed?”

Clarke laughs. She leans closer and lowers her voice as if she’s about to tell a secret.

“It’s tempting. But I think I’ll spare you.”

She leans back again, her eyes sparkling with joy. This woman is nothing like the hermit they described to Lexa in hushed voices, leaning across the counter, whenever she asked about the town’s most famous inhabitant. She likes the thin wrinkles that appear around Clarke’s eyes when they’re this close, smiling at each other, and the hint of mischief she sees in the way Clarke presses her lips together. This is a beautiful woman enjoying herself.

“Aren’t I lucky,” Lexa replies, her grin widening, and Clarke hums in agreement, holding Lexa’s stare and returning it with one of her own. She bites her lip and narrows her eyes, looking for something in Lexa’s face and for a heartbeat, it’s perfectly still. Then the large clock chimes, startling them.

“I’m gonna go get the food ready.” Clarke shifts but hesitates. “Is this really okay for you? I hope I’m not steamrolling you into something you don’t want.”

“You’re not,” Lexa says, trying to imagine Clarke bullying anyone into anything and failing. Whatever were these people in town talking about? It’s so far from the truth, she almost laughs aloud. Did they even know Clarke?

“Good,” Clarke says, smiling back happily. “I’ll only be a moment.”

\---

By the time Clarke puts a tray with food on the couch table, Lexa has almost dozed off on the couch. She startles at the sound of a spoon against a dish and feels a blush spread across her face. She nearly fell asleep. Embarrassed, she accepts the steaming bowl Clarke hands her. It looks as delicious as it smells and once Lexa puts the first spoon in her mouth, she closes her eyes in delight. It’s hot but so good.

“I don’t think I have ever eaten anything so tasty,” Lexa says, chewing blissfully.

“I’m glad you like it,” Clarke says, clearly amused at Lexa’s display of food ecstasy. “It’s really not that special. Maybe it’s the spices.”

“Maybe,” Lexa smiles, scooping up another spoonful of goodness.

They eat mostly in silence, but Lexa doesn’t miss the curious glances she gets from Clarke.

“I’ll take you back into town when we’re done,” Clarke says when the bowls are empty. “And tomorrow, if still necessary, you can see a doctor. Although I’m sure all you need to do is take it easy. And more ice. Will you be able to get some rest?”

She takes the bowl from Lexa and puts it on the tray.

“I should think so. Anya can handle the shop on her own for a few days and I live just above it so I’m still there if necessary. It’s my coffee shop, by the way. I’m not just a server. I own it.”

Clarke’s face takes on the color of a tomato instantly.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” she stammers. “You should have said something.”

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t have assumed anything other than you did. All I ever did was serve you a cup of coffee. Being a server is part of my job description.”

Clarke looks like she’s in pain.

“Really,” Lexa tries again, “it’s fine. No biggie.”

Finally, Clarke seems to relax. Her face has taken on a lighter shade of pink, barely visible in the soft lighting. She chuckles and her husky voice sends a shiver down Lexa’s spine. The food has warmed her inside and she feels her cheeks glow. The earlier tiredness washes over her again and Lexa hides a yawn behind her hand. Clarke has a way of putting her at ease that fills Lexa with awe, tuning down her well-trained alarms. And even though Lexa is aware of this, she just doesn’t want to mind.

“Anya can handle the stop on her own for a few days and I’ll just bum around,” she laughs.

“Is Anya your … business partner?” Clarke looks away to fix the position of a decoration in the center of the table.

“Yup,” Lexa nods. “My sister actually.”

She watches Clarke turn her head to look at her with a soft glow in her eyes. It’s the kind of look she has given Lexa before, as if she’s searching for something. Lexa watches her tilt her head to the right and squint, them she tilts her head the other way and purses her lips.

“I’d love to paint you.” Clarke’s voice is lower than before. She keeps her eyes fixed on Lexa’s face, her hand twitching as if she wants to lift it and Lexa holds her breath.

“You have the most exquisite features. I bet your physique is perfect. I’d love to see.”

Lexa gulps. Clarke’s dreamy gaze keeps wandering across Lexa’s face and linger on her lips before dropping down to her shoulders and her chest. Her hand comes up, her fingers trailing the outline of Lexa’s jaw in the air and Lexa feels blood rush to her head as her eyes jump from Clarke’s hand to her face and back. She almost reaches for her. The familiar tingle is back, running through her arms into her hands, through her legs, making her foot twitch. She must have twisted her upper body awkwardly to be able to look at Clarke and that’s what makes it harder to breathe. Or maybe it’s because the air around her feels thick and hot and barely breathable. Lexa balls her right hand into a fist, the movement making Clarke look down. She blinks a couple of times and looks back up at Lexa with wide eyes. Her mouth opens but then she buries her face in her hands and whimpers.

“Oh god, I’m sorry!” Her face had only just taken on its natural color again but behind her hands it now goes back to bright red. “I’m sorry. Wow. That was, oh god, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Clarke looks at her through her fingers. Lexa’s heart is beating wildly. Not once has anyone ever said anything like that to her.

A soft meow breaks them out of their trance.

“Raven!” Clarke looks down at the cat. Clearly in need of attention, Raven turns on all her cat charms, complete with kitten eyes and purring. It makes Lexa chuckle.

“You haven’t been a good girl,” Clarke states. “I’m not going to pet you.”

Meow. Whiny this time.

“Stop it, Raven.”

Raven whines again, rubbing her head against Clarke’s leg more fiercely, turning up the purr.

“Quite a charmer,” Lexa says while she watches the exchange. Clarke looks up at her and crosses her arms which causes Raven to meow irritably.

“She can be.”

“She really picks interesting moments to show up.” Lexa laughs. “Is she trying to make sure we keep our distance?”

“Lexa, I-“ Clarke starts but Lexa waves her hand. Using Clarke’s distraction Raven jumps onto the couch between them. Clarke pulls up her shoulders even more.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. I’m not a prude and you’re an artist. You see things differently.”

“I do,” Clarke says softly. “Yeah.”

“And it’s cool that you feel inspired by me. That’s actually really cool.” Lexa laughs, hoping her attempt to save the moment works. It takes a couple of shaky breaths but then she sees Clarke’s shoulders soften again.

“She’s not used to strangers in the house,” Clarke murmurs, looking down at Raven who made herself comfortable with her head on Clarke’s thigh. She runs her hand through the cat’s thick fur. “Neither am I.”

Raven starts to purr and closes her eyes in delight. Using the moment of imprudence, Lexa lifts her hand and starts scratching the cat’s head. Raven’s eyes open lazily and when she realizes there’s a second hand petting her, they widen in surprise. The purring stops and Clarke inhales audibly. Raven doesn’t move though. She keeps her narrowed eyes trained on Lexa and then, after a moment, slowly blinks a few times before closing them again. Lexa moves her hand down the back of Raven’s head, slowly stroking along her back, brushing against Clarke’s hand in the process. What she feels is no longer a tingle.

Clarke gives an approving click of her tongue. “Now who has the magic touch?”

“Not me, obviously,” Lexa laughs when after only a few more seconds, Raven growls at her and jumps off the couch. She strolls out into the hallway and sits down, looking at them from there.

“I guess she wants us to clean up now,” Clarke says, leaning forward to pick up the tray.

“Let me help,” Lexa interjects and seeing Clarke’s frown, she adds: “I can try out the crutch and you can tell me if I’m using it correctly.“

To silence Clarke’s grumbling objections, she reaches for the crutch and hoists herself up. Determined to prove she can do it, she takes a few tentative steps to the door and back. Walking with the crutch is difficult. She puts her bad foot down too hard a few times, but she bites down on the pain and makes it back to the couch, looking at Clarke triumphantly. The bandage really is done very well.

“I’m going to have to walk around with it later anyway. May as well get started now,” Lexa says, waiting for Clarke to get up too.

“Alright, you can come with me but you’re not carrying anything,” Clarke chuckles. “Be careful, please.”

She picks up the tray and gets up, walking backwards so she can watch Lexa following her unsteadily on her crutch. Once she’s through the door, Clarke turns and when Lexa makes it out into the hallway, only Raven sits there and watches her with intense disapproval. So much for the magic touch. Lexa makes it to the kitchen to find Clarke already loading the dishwasher. Raven walks in behind her, head and tail up high as if she owns the place.

“Here I am,” Lexa rejoices, leaning against the counter. She huffs. Luckily, her place is smaller and she won’t have to cover large distances. It’ll take some getting used to. Clarke’s kitchen is huge. There are shelves and cupboards and counter tops along three walls and a cooking isle in the center, complete with pots dangling above it. Who needs so much space, Lexa can’t help but wonder?

“You have a great sense of balance,” Clarke compliments her, putting the last bowl inside. She turns her head to smile at Lexa.

“Yeah, that’s why I fell over the first root I met out there,” Lexa laughs. “I swear it crawled out to hurt me the second it saw me. I had no chance.”

Clarke laughs heartily and takes a step back to close the door of the dishwasher, turning towards Lexa, unaware of Raven sitting behind her. The cat jumps up immediately, but it’s too late. Frozen in shock, Lexa watches as Clarke trips and falls towards the edge of the counter behind her. Lexa reaches out but misses Clarke’s hand. Flailing her arms, Clarke twists her upper body, making the angle even more dangerous.

An image flashes up in Lexa’s mind. Her hand covered in blood as she holds Clarke’s head, trying to get her to wake up.

Oh god no!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this new version of the story is so weird. It feels a lot less weird though because of my wonderful beta who lends me two more eyes when I can't see the words anymore and tells me I'm doing good when I worry too much. Thank you, DialedIn ❤️ You've taken a load off my shoulders without knowing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being forced to reveal her secret, Lexa struggles to stay in control of her feelings. A bitchy cat with a secret of her own and her sister who won't like the latest developments complicate things further.

Instinctively, Lexa raises her arm, spreading her fingers and clutching them into a fist that she quickly pulls back against her chest. Raven hisses again and moves backwards into a corner, her furry face displaying the same surprise Lexa sees in Clarke’s features. Clarke, who hovers mid-air at an odd angle, is breathing much too fast.

Clearing her throat, Lexa lowers her arm slowly. Once set softly onto the ground, Clarke tries to catch her breath. She looks up at Lexa, her eyes wide with a mixture of wonder and disbelief, utter confusion flickering through them as her brain tries to make sense of what just happened.

Lexa lets out a long breath. Her heart is beating wildly, only partly from the scare. There’s also relief, and strong disappointment.

“What the—,” Clarke starts, her eyes darting from Lexa’s face to her hand to Raven who is still huddled up in a corner of the kitchen. 

With a groan, Lexa snaps her fingers, watching as Clarke’s eyes close and her body slumps against the cabinet, her head hitting the handle before it falls to the side. Lexa sighs, ignoring Raven’s growling as she stands there, looking down at the sleeping woman on the floor. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers and feels tears well up in her eyes. She blinks a few times. This really isn’t going very well. Almost a year of keeping her head down and it’s all for nothing. She tries to swallow the acid rising up her throat. It burns through her gut. 

“You know, I knew.”

The voice is light and breezy and a stark contrast to the downright hostile behavior the cat has displayed so far. It also oozes with disapproval which fits much better.

“Then why did you hiss at me, you little bitch,” Lexa snarls, still too shaky to do anything other than stare at the cat that now moves into a sitting position, folding its tail neatly around its paws.

“I couldn’t be sure, could I?”

“Aren’t you supposed to feel those things? You’re a black cat!”

Raven looks over at Clarke, peacefully sleeping, sitting on the kitchen floor.

“I tried to tell her many times that her clumsiness will eventually get her in trouble.”

“She tripped over you!”

“Had she paid attention to me instead, she wouldn’t have.”

“You’re jealous? You’re actually jealous?”

Lexa flicks a spark at the cat and Raven hisses as it crackles like tiny fireworks in front of her nose. She doesn’t honor Lexa with a reply. She wipes a paw across her nose a few times and sneezes before turning around.

“We don’t usually like people barging in here.”

“I didn’t—” Lexa snaps her mouth shut to growl. Count to ten, she thinks, and starts speaking again at three. “I didn’t barge in here. Clarke rescued me from having to spend the night in the forest.”

Raven doesn't seem to pay attention to her words, only her ears are turned Lexa’s way and she turns one back towards Clarke now. But her owner is still out on the floor and she’ll stay like that until Lexa wakes her up again. 

“If you can’t find your way around a forest,” Raven states sardonically, “you should stay away.”

“You are … why are you like this?” Lexa snarls. “What have I ever done to you?”

Raven turns the second ear forward again, the rest of her small body shaking mildly. She’s laughing.

“It was funny, seeing you stumble around so helplessly. I enjoyed myself.”

Lexa balls a fist, trying to contain the anger that sparks up in her. 

“Oh yeah? Well, the thought of shaving a cat seems very funny to me too. Something I would enjoy a lot.”

There’s no response from Raven but Lexa is sure she saw her pull her head down between her shoulders a little. She huffs. She doesn't have the energy to deal with a bitchy cat now. 

“I’m going to wake her up again,” she says more to herself than Raven. Carefully maneuvering with her crutch, Lexa gets down on the floor next to Clarke. The sleeping painter looks like an angel, her blonde hair flowing softly around her face. It gives her a peaceful aura, almost too much for Lexa to want to wake her up again. If she could, she would just carry her back into the living room and have her wake up on the couch. But really, what would be the story she could tell? 

Lexa takes a deep breath and snaps her fingers softly, watching Clarke open her eyes again.

“Oww,” she moans and shifts, freeing her hand that was trapped underneath her. “What happened?”

“You fell,” Lexa says softly and leans in a little more. She puts her hand on Clarke’s arm to help her focus. Clarke moans again.

“You hit your head and went out like a light. But here you are again.”

It’s such a blatant lie, it makes Lexa cringe. She has never been a good liar even though she had to be most of her life. It had never felt right. Anya is going to kill her.

“There was—,” Clarke starts, her fingers touching the back of her head. She probes different areas and frowns. When she finds where her head hit the cabinet handle, she flinches and the frown gets deeper. “But it hardly hurts.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Lexa tries to dissipate. “You really scared me there, going down like that.”

“Hm,” Clarke says, narrowing her eyes at Lexa for a moment before turning her head to look up at the counter. “I guess I was lucky.”

“Can you get up?” Lexa tries again to distract Clarke from thinking too much about it. Clarke shifts onto her knees and pulls herself up.

“Yeah, no problem, I’m fine.”

Lexa scrambles to get up too, using the crutch to bring her upright again. It takes a moment and when she finally looks up, Clarke stands there, eyeing her curiously.

“Do you feel dizzy?” Lexa asks quickly as she leans on her crutch, moving the weight onto her good leg. Too much movement has made her ankle hurt again. She winces and the look on Clarke’s face changes from puzzled to concerned. Raven jumps up on the counter behind Clarke, giving a soft meow.

“Hey, girl,” Clarke turns towards the cat to pet her, “were you trying to kill me?”

“Do you remember tripping over Raven?” Lexa asks, silently hoping for a no. Otherwise she will really need to brush up on her skills.

“Vaguely,” Clarke says slowly, stroking behind Raven’s ears. If Lexa has ever needed proof that animals have facial expressions, Raven’s raised brow is it. Lexa shoots her a glare, loaded with ‘don’t you dare’ just because she wouldn’t put it past this cat to start talking now. Raven returns the stare, moving her head to follow Clarke’s fingers. Her yellow eyes close half-way and she decides to lose interest in Lexa again.

“But not much more than that,” Clarke continues, unaware of the little exchange. “Hm. Weird.”

“Not so weird,” Lexa says quickly. “You did hit your head.”

“I guess so,” Clarke doesn’t sound too convinced, but she returns the smile Lexa gives her. Behind Clarke, Raven has started to walk along the edge of the counter. There’s a bundle of dry herbs at the end, probably left there from when Clarke made dinner. As the cat passes the bundle, she casually knocks it down before jumping off and strolling towards the door.

“Are you serious?” Clarke sighs, leaning down to pick up the herbs. She holds them in her hands for a moment. “I don’t know what’s up with her. She never knocks anything down.”

“Maybe she’s not happy with me being here,” Lexa thinks out loud. She watches Clarke drop the herbs into a basket near the wall.

“It’s my house,” she says with a wink. “Not Raven’s.”

The cat’s rear is just about to round the corner out into the hallway. Lexa can’t help but smirk at the annoyed twitch of the tail at Clarke’s words.

“I don’t know,” she grins. “Does Raven know that?”

There’s this sudden urge to touch Clarke. Touch her hand or her arm, feel the tingling sensation again. Feel her fingers close around Lexa’s hand. The comfort of her touch. Lexa drops her head, too scared of her feelings showing on her face. She let her guard down too quickly with Clarke. It didn’t feel wrong. It still doesn’t. It didn’t feel wrong the last time either. Until it was.

She swallows to clear the lump in her throat. She hasn’t done anything wrong. What it means scares her though. Without looking up, Lexa can feel Clarke’s eyes on her, wondering. She does the only thing she can think of. It’s only a little swiping motion of her hand, clearing Clarke’s mind once more. Taking her back to oblivion. Do not think about this. Clarke blinks a few times.

“Anyway,“ she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “now that we’ve processed the little scare, I’m sure you want to go home.”

“Only if I’m sure you’re okay,” Lexa says, pushing herself away from the counter she’s leaning against to take a shaky step towards Clarke. She stops in front of her, close enough to touch her but Lexa doesn’t. She’s done enough already.

Clarke’s eyes flicker across her face and she leans her head, smiling softly. It’s a Clarke-thing. Lexa can almost see the thoughts behind Clarke’s forehead, but she doesn’t voice them. Instead, she smiles her mysterious, knowing smile, as if she knows everything about Lexa. Faintly, Lexa can hear the ticking of the grandfather clock. It’s only the kitchen lights but it looks like stars in Clarke’s eyes and they’re drawing Lexa in. Clarke’s eyes dart to Lexa’s lips and she feels them part in response when finally, her mind kickstarts again and she leans back quickly.

“Are you okay?” she asks Clarke, trying to hide her shallow breathing. 

“I am, really, don’t worry. There’s hardly a swelling.” Clarke touches the back of her head again. “I’m going to get the second crutch. It’ll be easier walking with two.”

Enchanting is the only word Lexa can think of as she watches Clarke leave the kitchen. She snaps her fingers a couple of times, producing tiny sparks, throwing the last one up in the air before following. 

\---

A little while later, they’re driving through the dark forest, the headlights of Clarke’s car pointing the way towards town. Lexa closes her eyes briefly, leaning her head back against the headrest. They haven’t spoken much and driving in silence feels nice. Lexa glances at Clarke, as much as it’s possible without noticeably turning her head. Lexa can feel her warmth even in the passenger seat and she can hardly suppress a smile. Clarke isn’t driving fast, the bumpy road wouldn’t allow it anyway, but she seems to be in no hurry to drop Lexa off.

“You know,” Lexa says eventually, “people here really know nothing about you.”

There’s a little chuckle and Clarke hums. 

“Maybe I don’t want them to know anything about me.”

“They told me about this millionaire who lives out in the woods alone with her cat.”

Clarke laughs.

“A millionaire? Who told you that?”

“Is it not true?”

“I’m not a millionaire.” Clarke pauses for a moment, changing into a lower gear to go up a steep slope. When they reach the top, Lexa can see the town sign. They’re almost there.

“A female painter of my age will never be a millionaire. Most definitely not while I’m still alive.” 

Clarke gives a bitter laugh.

“I can live comfortably, but I’m very far from being a millionaire.”

“That’s good.”

The words slip from Lexa’s mouth before she can think. Out of your league.

“I mean, I think that’s sad but also … ah, damn.”

Clarke laughs at her stammering. Very sweetly so. 

It’s when they pass the town sign that she turns to look at Lexa, her eyes once again sparkling but with something more than just joy. Lexa would call it fondness and she would wonder where it came from if the moment didn’t feel so complete. So she does nothing but bathe in it, the two seconds it takes before Clarke looks away again. Lexa closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the smile on her face, feeling it widen the more she dwells on it, breathing it in deeply. She can’t bring herself to wipe her mind again, to make Clarke forget her as soon as she drops her off. 

The streetlights are too bright, shooing away the near darkness which had enveloped them so comfortably. They stop at a couple of traffic lights and with each one turning green, Lexa’s throat feels tighter. Eventually, and much too soon, the car comes to a stop outside the coffee shop. Clarke turns off the engine.

Before they left Clarke’s house, Lexa had called Anya to ask her to meet at the shop. She watches her sister walk towards the car, stopping next to the passenger door, and reaches for the handle.

“I would like to see you again.” They’re quiet words, spoken almost to herself but Lexa has heard. Clarke’s hands are clutching the steering wheel. She shoots a side glance at Lexa who has frozen with her hand on the handle.

A small eternity passes before Lexa works up the courage to reply. 

“I’d really like that.” 

She does. She shouldn’t say it but she does. Lexa shifts in her seat and opens the door wide, putting the crutches out first before getting out. Anya looks at her curiously, then leans down to look at the driver.

“Well, hello there.”

“Anya, this is Clarke,” Lexa introduces her unnecessarily because there’s no way Anya hasn’t recognized who the driver is. She teased her for the rest of the day last Wednesday after Clarke left.

Clarke smiles kindly, lifting one hand from the steering wheel to greet her sister. Quickly grabbing Anya’s arm, Lexa pulls her back.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” she says to Clarke, moving in front of Anya.

“You’re very welcome.” Clarke smiles, holding Lexa’s gaze until Anya starts pulling at her arm. Hitting her softly to get her to stop, Lexa tries to gain a few more seconds. She holds up a crutch.

“I’ll have to return these, too.“

“I’m leaving town to prepare an exhibition,” Clarke sighs. “I’ll be away for a couple of weeks.”

She thinks for a moment, then leans over to open the glove compartment. She takes out a few business cards, picking out one to hand Lexa.

“Call me.”

Lexa reaches for the card slowly, trying to calm her heart that threatens to jump out of her chest.

“Okay,” is all she manages to say.

Clarke only smiles, making Lexa’s heart bounce even more. Closing the car door, Lexa sees her give a last little wave before she starts the engine.

“Damn, Lexa, is that Clarke Griffin?” Anya stares with wide eyes as the car pulls away from the curb smoothly. She snaps the business card from Lexa’s hand and sticks out her tongue. “I’ll be damned.”

When the tail lights of Clarke’s car have disappeared, Lexa nods. 

“Yeah. That’s Clarke Griffin.”

\---

Talking to Clarke has felt so much easier than talking to her sister who starts firing questions about the famous painter at her as soon as Clarke’s car is out of sight. Helping her up the stairs to her apartment, Anya gives Lexa a wide grin.

“Did you kiss her?”

“Anya, come on, she helped me when I hurt myself. Why would I kiss her?”

“Yeah, why would you ever kiss anyone again?” Anya says sourly, giving Lexa an odd look. “That’s not the problem, you know.”

“Not now, Anya, I’m tired and my ankle hurts.”

Once they’ve made it upstairs, Lexa asks Anya to look for an ice pack in her freezer. She slowly makes her way into her living room and drops onto the couch, propping herself up in a corner so she can put her leg up as well. She hears Anya rummage through the freezer in the kitchen muttering curses. After a couple of minutes, her sister sits down across from her and tosses a bag of frozen peas into Lexa’s lap.

“Here, that’s all you had except for a lot of frozen pizza. Have you ever heard about healthy eating?”

“That’s just for emergencies.” Lexa drapes the peas across her ankle. She’s not even sure it still needs to be cooled and Clarke hasn’t said anything. But Clarke had probably forgotten about it, just like she had forgotten a lot of other things too.

“Spill.” Anya leans forward with an expectant look on her face. Lexa’s frown makes her pull the business card from her back pocket and look at it again.

“There’s a handwritten mobile number on here, little one. I’m sure there’s something you want to tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Anya. I tripped and twisted my ankle and Clarke was nice and helped me.”

Anya doesn’t look convinced but knows Lexa better than to press for more information. 

“What’s her house like? Does she have a big house?”

“Yeah, it’s … quite big. But not what you would expect. It’s cozy.”

Eagerly, Anya leans even closer and lowers her voice.

“Is she as crazy as they say?”

Lexa gives a short laugh. Down at the shop, Anya has heard the same gossip. Which couldn’t be more wrong. Recalling the sensation every time Clarke had touched her, Lexa shakes her head. In fact, she can feel it again now, crawling up her arm at the memory.

“No, Clarke isn’t crazy at all. She’s very nice and kind and not weird at all. I didn’t see anything crazy about her. People are idiots, Anya. But then, we already knew that.”

“Come one, tell me something interesting.”

“She’s not a millionaire.”

“That’s a shame but not interesting.”

“She has a black cat.”

“Nah. Cute. But nah.”

Lexa sighs. She might as well tell her sister.

“I used magic.”

Anya leans back and gives her a long stare. Her tightly clenched jaw is enough proof for Lexa to know she has stepped on treacherous grounds.

“Did you,” is Anya’s clipped answer as she presses her lips into a thin line. Lexa tries to endure Anya’s cold staring but it makes her uncomfortable. She’s in for a tongue lashing . 

“I had to. She tripped over her cat and would have hurt herself. I did it to save her,” Lexa says quietly, looking down at her hands. When she looks up again, she finds Anya still staring at her.

“We’ve been through this, Lexa,” her sister deadpans.

Recalling the image flashing through her head when Clarke fell, Lexa sighs. She looks at her hands again and wonders what they would have looked like with blood on them.

“She wouldn’t wake up again. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I thought we had agreed not to use our powers. And weren’t you the one who said we mustn’t interfere, not use our powers to change anything at all.” The spite in Anya’s words is unmistakable.

Lexa can easily think of a dozen situations when their magic has gotten them out of trouble in the past years. But it had been magic that had gotten them into the trouble in the first place. It had all been okay until that one night. The night they had come for them. Some had actually carried pitchforks, their leader was wielding a large cross at them. When Lexa had made it burst into flames, he had let go of it and they had stopped charging, but it hadn’t made the situation any better. Lexa had been consumed by her rage. In her fury she had begun to summon a storm. But then Anya had finally stepped in. It was because of her they had been able to flee. With only a few things crammed into their car, but alive. And nobody else had died that night either. They had zig-zagged across the country and finally ended up in this god-forsaken town in the middle of nowhere. Lexa had liked the name when she had taken her finger off the map. Arkadia. Sounded like the right kind of place to go next . 

They had never again spoken about the night, but Lexa knew how close she had come to hurting someone. Her little magic tricks, those that had made Costia laugh so much, they had been fun. But there's a power within her she doesn't want to unleash again. It's because of the danger that the sisters have vowed not to use their magic at all. But now Lexa has.

She looks up to meet Anya’s glare with her own. She has broken their vow and her sister is angry. It shows in Anya’s intensely glowing eyes. It looks dangerous, but it’s supposed to. It’s a last warning. The air around them starts to crackle as Lexa allows her own eyes to flash up too. 

“Do not make the same mistake again.”

“Mistake?” Lexa raises her voice. “It wasn’t a mistake. It just got out of hand.”

“Because you were stupid and showed her what you can do. Do not make _that_ mistake again. Stay away from Clarke.”

“Fuck you, Anya. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Her words hit the target. Anya stares at her for a moment longer but her eyes return to their natural color and she drops her shoulders. Standing up abruptly, she raises a trembling finger at Lexa.

“No, I’m not telling you what to do. You’re putting both of us in danger. Do your own thinking. Make the right choice.”

“We’ll talk about this another time.” Lexa calls after her, watching her sister storm out of the room. She hears a loud thud and something shatters, making Lexa grunt angrily, then the door to her apartment slams shut. 

Half an hour later, Lexa opens her eyes again slowly. Meditating has calmed her down. She opens her palm and a small glowing orb forms in it, oscillating and pulsating until finally, a hazy image appears inside. She zooms in on Clarke’s face, her eyes closed as she sleeps on the kitchen floor. Lexa presses her lips together and closes her hand. The orb pops silently and disappears. She could make another to show her Clarke right now. But she won’t. Instead, she reaches for the crutches. She could heal her ankle right now too. Looking at the bandage around it, she considers it for a moment. Instead, she pushes herself up from the couch and makes her way into the bathroom.

In the hallway, she finds her mirror shattered on the floor. It was up on the wall and thanks to Anya, it’s now broken. It will be easy to fix. Much easier than Lexa’s own heart. Or Anya’s. The mirror is not the first of her things lost to Anya’s hot temper. In a way, Lexa can’t blame her sister. They’ve been running for so long, trying to hide what they are because of a world that doesn’t want them in it. Lexa fondly remembers their mentor, the wise woman who helped them develop their powers, who had always tried to get them to embrace the magic. More than once had she taken Lexa aside and told her to use her head over her heart. To be patient. And careful. Indra had had no idea how hard a task that would be. Gone for years now, Lexa still misses her terribly. She would know what to do. Indra had always known. 

Instead of showering, Lexa decides to take a bath. At least it allows her to let her bandaged foot dangle over the edge of the tub. There’s an angry purple bruise on her hip the size of her palm and she sighs. Soaking in the hot water is soothing and Lexa feels her muscles relax. The events of the day have been draining and she yawns. Crooking her index finger underwater, she pulls the plug and waits for the tub to empty before hoisting herself out. Healing her ankle would really be a lot easier but she must honor their vow again, show Anya she can do it. No more magic. Not to pull plugs without touching them and not to watch cute blondes in magic orbs, Lexa chides herself and sighs.

When she finally gets into bed, she turns onto her side, pulling her knees up to her chest. There was a moment earlier that day when she had wanted to kiss Clarke. The look on her face when she had told Lexa she would love to see her naked had been tempting. Undoubtedly, it had been a very strange thing for Clarke to say to someone she had only just met. Lexa would lie to herself if she pretended it hadn’t done anything to her. It would have been easy too because Clarke would not have resisted, not with that look in her eyes, the way her fingers traced the shape of Lexa’s face. Letting her eyes close, Lexa enjoys a moment of imagining what would have happened. She can feel a smile tug at her lips and gives in, allowing it to spread as she dives deeper into the image, sinking into sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will that be just a regular or would you like some drama to go with it?

Although it’s already 9 am on a workday, Lexa doesn’t feel the urge to get up at all. She heard Anya arrive at the shop, early enough to get everything ready before the first coffee-thirsty customers arrive. Because she had left the living room window open just a crack and her place isn’t very big, Lexa also heard her sister move the small tables outside, set them on the sidewalk, and adjust the chairs around them. She wouldn’t normally hear it quite so clearly, but it seemed Anya was particularly feisty today.

Lexa groans and rolls onto her back. It won’t be long before Anya comes upstairs to tell her to come down too. Or maybe she’ll just call. Indra had warned them about excessive use of their magic. How it would make it impossible to stop. Thinking back at the many times she resorted to magic to make her days easier, Lexa cringes. Only a year ago, she wouldn’t have thought twice after twisting her ankle. She would have just made it right again. She wouldn’t have fallen in the first place. All it ever takes is a flick of her wrist, a snap of her finger, a tilt of her head. But after what happened with Costia, both Anya and Lexa stopped using their magic. Never again, they had promised each other. Never again would they put themselves at risk again. So, grudgingly, Lexa endured every headache, every bruise and sore muscle and every cut finger. She watched people stumble and fall and hurt themselves and did nothing to save them. She saw two cars crash outside their shop, watched the ambulance arrive to take away the injured and had stubbornly continued to wipe tables, cleaned mugs and prepared flavored coffees for people who cared just as little as she pretended to do. She knew it was the right thing to stay out. But it felt like she wasn’t herself anymore. 

Sometimes at night, in bad dreams, Lexa can still hear the sound of her door breaking down when they came for her and found them together in Lexa’s bed. She can still see their angry faces as they screamed at them, called her names, and dragged Costia away from her. She still remembers the deafening silence after they were gone and she was left sitting in her bed, trembling, unable to move, crying and lost. She has no place in this world. Nobody wants her here. She’s not as strong as Indra thought.

She had taught Lexa everything and told her to use her abilities wisely. Humans had a strong dislike of everything they didn’t understand. It scared them. Lexa had tried to grow into the shoes that seemed too big for her and she was still struggling. Always afraid of slipping up. One time, when she was still very young, she had even asked Indra to take her powers away, just so she wouldn’t run the risk of messing anything up. The only comfort the old witch had offered was to tell her it would get better with time. But did it really? Indra had tucked little Lexa in tighter and lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘You’ll be safe,’ she had muttered, her voice like warm honey, soothing a scared child. _‘The universe will always take care of you,’_ she had said and leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. _‘You have to look out for the signs. It will open the doors, walking through is up to you.’_

Lexa bares her teeth. Yeah, she’s had the door slam in her face once too often. With a deep sigh, she shifts to get up, carefully putting her foot down to see if it still hurts. It’s a lot better but the bandage feels too tight now. She leans down to remove it, then reconsiders. When she touches the bandage, a faint tingle runs through her fingertips. It catches her unprepared and Lexa screws up her eyes, desperately trying to ignore the image that appears. Call me. God, she wants to. But there’s so much at stake. 

Leaving the crutches where they are, Lexa limps out into the hallway. She spots her mirror shattered on the floor by the front door and groans. Glancing into the living room there’s also the bag of peas on the floor. Quickly entering the bathroom, she closes the door behind her.

Cleaned up and dressed a short while later, Lexa leans down to pick up the defrosted peas. They’re soft and warm and she pulls a face as she drops the bag into the trash in the kitchen. Her fridge is empty except for a couple of eggs and some milk and she closes it again quickly. She’ll take care of the mirror and then go down to the coffee shop to have some breakfast.

As Lexa moves the mirror shards back into place one by one, turning the pieces like a puzzle until they fit, she tells herself that this is going to be the last time she will use her magic. Maybe that’s why she’s dragging it out because she could do this a lot faster. A glowing ember travels along the cracks, led by her finger, restoring the mirror perfectly. Just as she guides it back towards its spot on the wall, there’s a knock on her door. She turns, leaving the mirror to find its place on its own.

Expecting Anya, she opens the door and is surprised to see Clarke smiling at her, holding Lexa’s boot and a to-go-cup from the coffee shop.

“Good morning.”

Lexa’s heart skips a beat at the sight. She opens the door wider and holds on to it for balance. 

“Good morning,” she says, returning Clarke’s wide smile. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

Quickly glancing over her shoulder, she makes sure the mirror is back in place and there’s no sign of anything else out of the ordinary. 

“Too soon?” Clarke lifts the cup to her lips, looking at Lexa over the rim of the cover, her eyes once again sparkling with joy and something else that makes Lexa swoon.

“I didn’t say that,” Lexa smirks, her gloomy mood forgotten. She can’t help herself. She feels so at ease with Clarke. This woman has made her smile more in a day than she has in the past year. Smiling a little more can’t be wrong.

“I was just ready to go downstairs and see if Anya needs some help.”

“How’s your foot?” Clarke looks around behind Lexa. “No crutches, I see?”

“It’s actually a lot better today. Thanks to you.”

The words hang there for a moment because Clarke has looked up again, her blue eyes searching Lexa’s and holding them. 

“Well, I decided to grab a coffee on my way to the airport. And return your boot.” She holds up both in the wrong order, the boot first and then the coffee. Lexa does her best to stifle a grin.

“Would you like to come in?”

“I don’t have time right now. When I’m back, okay?” Clarke smiles sweetly.

Slowly, Lexa reaches for the boot and drops it behind her without looking.

“Anytime.”

Clarke beams at that, giving her the brightest smile so far and Lexa wonders how long it will take for her own smile to be stuck on her own face permanently. Because she can do nothing to stop it. Clarke taps her fingers against the cup.

“You know,” she says, “I thought about bringing Raven over to ask you to take care of her while I’m gone. She seems to like you.”

Raven does not but from the way Clarke is grinning at her, Lexa knows she’s only joking. 

“But I asked a girl that comes to my painting classes to go over to my house to check on her. You got lucky.”

“We could have asked my sister. She likes cats.” Lexa snorts at the thought. Anya does like cats, especially black ones, but maybe this particular cat has a little too much attitude even for a seasoned witch.

“Your sister is a little grumpy, huh? She made my coffee and didn’t seem overly friendly this morning.”

“Oh, don’t mind her. Anya is a bit like Raven. Needs some warming up time before she shows she’s a normal human being.” Yeah, right.

Clarke chuckles and shifts her weight onto her other leg. She looks down at her cup, tapping her finger against it again.

“This is good, by the way. I may have to become a regular once I’m back.”

Lexa looks down at the cup. She could ask what flavor Clarke is having but something tells her it’s just regular coffee. The same she had last Wednesday. The one she hardly tried because she was too wrapped up in her book. 

“I’d like that.”

“Would you?”

“Yeah.”

Clarke’s eyes widen by a fraction. There’s something about her that makes it almost impossible for Lexa not to want to touch her. The sensation is addictive. She can feel her eyes start to glow and blinks quickly, pushing it down again. Clarke leans her head a little, ignoring the strand of hair that falls into her face. 

“I’m going to be on my way. We’ll … umm … I’ll be in touch. Or you will?”

She takes a step forward and Lexa leans in, expecting a hug. She feels Clarke’s hand on her arm as she presses a soft kiss to Lexa’s cheek. The heat of her lips almost burns Lexa’s skin and the sensation makes Lexa gasp. She exhales, realizing she has closed her eyes, and brings her fingers up to the spot where she was just kissed. Clarke moves back and her eyes scan Lexa curiously but when Lexa smiles, Clarke relaxes again. Warmth floats up across Lexa’s face as a massive blush spreads, making Clarke chuckle again. 

Lexa rolls her eyes at herself and shrugs. Clarke’s eyes are darting across her face, skimming Lexa’s lips a few times and she feels them tingle. She has to say something now before she does something she will regret later.

“Good luck with your exhibition. From what I’ve seen of your art, it’ll be another smasher.”

“You’ve seen my paintings? Where?”

“Oh, umm, in your living room?”

“Lexa, there’s just one painting there. I’ve painted a few more to earn myself a name. Are you telling me you never even checked out the famous painter when you moved here?”

Truth is, Lexa hadn’t thought much about it. What people told her about this mysterious painter sounded so strange, she hadn’t wanted to see the paintings. She’d been curious in the beginning but had soon forgotten about it. And now the image she had in her head, based on what she had been told, has been shattered into a million pieces. Her stomach clenches. She’s just as bad as everyone else.

“I didn’t,” she admits. “But I will. Maybe I can get a tour. Or come to one of your painting classes?” 

Clarke watches her. Whatever goes through her mind, she doesn’t say it. She shakes her cup and takes a sip, then reaches into her pocket to retrieve her car keys.

“We’ll talk about the tour when I’m back.” Clarke turns but stops halfway, pulling her lower lip between her teeth.

“You know, you said I was different. You are very different too.”

Lexa gulps.

“Different from what?”

Clarke gives her a long look and narrows her eyes. It’s the cutest thing to see her scrunch up her nose like that. But she only nods without another word and disappears down the stairs.

Once Clarke has left, by the time she hears the front door downstairs close, Lexa slowly pushes the door shut. She bumps her forehead softly against the door a few times. A look into her newly refurbished mirror reveals her still red ears, turning a darker shade yet at the thought of their flirting. She scans her face, her unusually happy eyes and the smile that seems to have lingered on her lips since last night, shaking her head at her apparent silliness. Isn’t _she_ supposed to be the one with the magic? 

Turning away from the mirror, Lexa limps into the living room and flops onto the couch. She folds her hands in her lap and leans her head back to stare at the ceiling. She can be careful, can’t she? She can make sure not to slip up this time. She can try again. What if this is another door opening for her? What if she doesn’t walk through? 

Lexa waits five minutes, just to be sure Clarke is gone and won’t see her. Healing her ankle only takes a few seconds and she leans down to remove the bandage. Clarke has pulled it so tight, there are red lines around her ankle and the skin starts prickling when the blood can finally flow freely again. She moves her foot, small circles and a bone cracks. That’s it. No more magic for her. The next twisted ankle will have to heal by itself. Pushing herself up from the couch, she walks over to the window to look down. Clarke’s car is gone. When she returns in a couple of weeks, it won’t seem strange that Lexa is walking normally again. 

Clarke’s business card is still on the couch table and she picks it up. Clarke had taken it from the bottom of the stack. There’s only her name printed on it, the name of the town and a website. But at the bottom, in beautiful handwriting, is Clarke’s number. Lexa trails it with her thumb before putting it back down. 

She inhales deeply, bracing herself before meeting Anya and leaves her apartment, walking painlessly, to see what needs to be done downstairs.

\---

_I’ve been thinking about you._

Lexa stares at the message for the best part of a minute, then deletes it again. She can’t write that.

_How’s the exhibition going?_

She presses send and puts the phone face down on the counter next to the fridge. 

A woman clears her throat behind her and Lexa remembers she should be doing something. 

Some. Thing. 

She glances over her shoulder and seeing the woman standing there reminds her what it was. With her hand hovering over the various packs of milk and plant drinks, she tries to remember what kind the woman had ordered. Soy? Or was it almond? 

Oh wait. She picks up her phone and sends another message.

_It’s Lexa by the way._

“What’s taking you so long?” Anya smacks Lexa’s bottom as she walks past. “The lady wants her coffee.”

If anyone had looked closely, they would have seen the tiny blue lighting bolt that added an extra sting to the smack. Lexa growls at Anya, letting her eyes flare up for a split second as a warning. But her sister isn’t even looking. And Lexa should really not be allowing Anya to irritate her.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa addresses the woman waiting for her coffee, “did you want a soy latte?”

“Oh god no!” the woman exclaims horrified and Lexa is amazed at the perfect O her mouth forms. “Regular, just a regular.”

“Coming right up.”

Damn. She hands the coffee across the counter and gets ready for the next order, but the woman still stands there, looking at her curiously.

“Do you need anything else?” Lexa asks her.

“You’re the one,” the woman says gravely, nodding to herself.

“Excuse me?”

“Clarke Griffin?”

“What about her?”

“You met her.”

How does she even know?

“Yes, she was kind enough to help me when I hurt myself on a walk in the woods.”

“You better be careful around that one. She’s weird,” the woman warns, inching closer, and Lexa takes a step back, glad there’s a counter between them. 

“I’d appreciate you taking your gossip elsewhere,” she says, forcing a teeth-baring smile. “Clarke Griffin is a wonderful person. Have a great day.”

The woman stares at her disbelievingly. Lexa grabs her phone from the counter and slips it into her pocket. When she turns back around, the woman is gone. What the hell? These people are beyond crazy. 

The morning has been busy but as she looks around now, the crowd has thinned out and there are only a few people at the tables. They all seem adequately supplied for now, so Lexa unties her apron. 

“Anya, I’m taking my lunch break,” she tells her sister who only nods back at her. Lexa always takes her break first. She walks outside and takes a few deep breaths, stretching her back. There’s a small park across the road and she decides to go for a little walk, find a bench and sit down to eat her sandwich. It’s a rare warm, sunny day and when she has finished eating, she stretches out her legs and leans back, turning her face towards the sun. Her phone vibrates and she pulls it from her pocket without opening her eyes to accept the call.

“Hello?”

There’s a little pause and Lexa checks the display to see if she got disconnected. Unknown number.

“Lexa?”

Clarke!

“Yes. Hi.”

“Hi.” Softly. 

Lexa has memorized Clarke’s smile and pulls it up now, meeting it with her own. 

“I thought I’d give you a quick call. Are you busy?” Clarke sounds tired but happy, her voice is a little rough and it sends a chill down Lexa’s spine to hear her.

“Not busy at all. I’m on my lunch break. How’s it going?”

“It’s going very well, actually. The exhibition opens tonight. It’s all new paintings and I oversaw the arrangements personally which I’ve never done before. I usually just pay someone for that.” She laughs her husky laugh. “It’s all very cool. They said they wanted to be sure it’s just the way I want it. I spent all week preparing it and I’m really excited now.”

“I can tell,” Lexa laughs at the unusual flood of words from Clarke.

“I wanted to tell you,” Clarke continues breathlessly, “you can watch it online. If you want. There’ll be a live stream. I can send you the link if you like. It’s tonight at 9.”

“Absolutely. I will finally get a chance to see your paintings.”

“And me.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll be there too.”

Instead of words, a strange noise escapes Lexa’s mouth. It resembles a mhm-sound but strangled at the end. 

“Are you okay?”

Lexa flinches. She has had the hardest time keeping herself from checking her orb. Just trying to stop her thoughts from circling back to Clarke every few minutes since she left has been difficult. The idea of seeing her on a screen makes Lexa’s stomach wobble. It’s impossible to stay sensible, Lexa just doesn’t have the strength. She closes her eyes.

“Send me the link. I’ll be there. And make sure you take care of yourself.”

There’s a little pause and she opens her eyes again, blinking at the sun. There’s a soft chuckle in her ear.

“I will. I have to go now. Need to take a nap before tonight. I’m so tired.” Clarke yawns into the phone. “Oh, are you okay? Is your foot better?”

“My foot is fine. I can walk again,” Lexa says because it’s the truth. No need to tell Clarke she’s been walking again since right after she left for the airport.

“Good. You take care of yourself too and I will do the same. I’m …,” Clarke pauses. “I’ll see you soon. Enjoy the rest of your lunch break.”

Grinning, Lexa disconnects and stares at the dark display. Within a minute, it vibrates again. Clarke has sent the link. 

\---

Anya has been exceptionally tight-lipped for days now. She’s been silently brooding, Lexa can tell. She knows her sister too well to overlook the signs. When Lexa walks back into the coffee shop, Anya is wiping the counter with both hands gripping the cloth and it looks like she wants to murder it. She looks up at Lexa, her eyes lighting up once before taking on their normal color again. She’s still mad.

Lexa looks around. It’s not very busy.

“Anya, at some point, we’re going to _have_ to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Please, Anya. I’m sorry. But you have to understand. It just happened because I couldn’t let Clarke hurt herself. I had to but it won’t happen again.”

Anya stops her furious wiping to look up at Lexa.

“Oh, I understand perfectly well. You’re adjusting your views the way it suits you, sis. We talked about this.” Anya lowers her voice. “If I hadn’t stopped you, you would have hurt someone and weren’t you the one crying afterwards about how horrible that would have been? What changed?”

“Maybe I did,” Lexa says quietly. “Maybe I changed, Anya.”

Her sister glares at her, her eyes flaring up but returning to their natural brown instantly. 

“If you mess this up again, you’re on your own.”

She straightens up, tossing the cloth onto the counter.

“You know, maybe that’s not such a bad idea.”

Lexa feels like she has been punched in the gut.

“What do you mean?”

“This place is boring. It wears me out. If you want to stay, fine, but maybe I should go.”

“Go?” Lexa stammers, holding on the counter. “Go where?”

Anya opens her mouth but closes it again and her face shifts as she puts on her friendly mask. Another customer has come in and she walks off to take his order. Lexa shakes her head to clear the fog in her mind. She feels disoriented. Anya is her rock. What would she ever do without her?

They don’t get another minute of quiet together and Lexa wouldn’t know what to say anyway. Anya leaves before closing time, leaving Lexa to clean up on her own.

\---

Later that night, close to 9, Lexa turns on her tablet and pulls up the link Clarke sent her. The website announces the grand opening of Clarke Griffin’s new exhibition “enchantments”. Reading the few lines of text, Lexa’s eyes get stuck on a picture of a smiling Clarke at the easel in her studio. Right next to it is a window for the live stream. It’s on pause, still dark. Lexa checks the time. Another couple of minutes. The screen swims before her eyes and she realizes she’s crying. She wipes the tears away with the back of her hand and snuffles. The lump in her throat makes it almost impossible to breathe and she chokes, crying harder. Through the mist, she sees the live stream start. Clarke is the first thing she sees. The back of her head as she moves through the crowd towards a small stage, shaking hands until she reaches the podium. A huge, tattooed guy with a massive beard adjusts the microphone once Clarke is next to him and clears his throat. Lexa’s hand trembles when she turns up the volume.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” tattoo-guy starts in a deep baritone, “her art sells in galleries around the globe, she is the brightest star in today’s art universe. Her brilliance will take your breath away if you don’t know her works yet. I honestly expect to see some of you weeping in front of her paintings.” 

He pauses when people laugh, and the camera draws close. He winks. 

“I’m not even joking. Apart from her exceptional talent she is the most beautiful and wondrous person, the kindest and wisest woman I have ever met and I’m lucky to call her my friend.”

Lexa swallows against the lump. What he says sounds like an adequate description of Clarke.

“A rare gem as an artist and a real treat as a human being,” the man goes on. “I consider myself honored to have been given the opportunity to prepare a stage for her new exhibition.”

He pauses again, reaching for Clarke’s hand. Clarke has been standing there the whole time with her hands clasped together, head down. She looks up now, looking at him fondly.

“Clarke told me she would like to say a few words,” he continues. “I will not bore you with my presence any longer because I am not who you are here for. Please welcome my friend, my idol: Clarke Griffin.”

People cheer as he moves back from the microphone and Clarke steps forward, smiling proudly. She waits for a few seconds, then looks up, straight into the camera. Straight at Lexa. 

Lexa turns off her tablet, dropping it onto the couch next to her.

This is not going to work. She can’t tell Anya they have to hide and then attach herself to someone so quickly. It’s not like she understands what’s going on with Clarke. All she knows is that she likes her. She’s curious about her, the way she makes Lexa’s skin tingle all over when they touch and the strange feeling of comfort, trust, when Lexa is near her. That’s what’s really odd. She hardly knows Clarke, yet she feels so familiar, so close.

But Lexa can’t allow it to evolve. Not again. Anya is right. She can’t let it happen again. It’s best to nip it in the bud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the lightning-fast DialedIn, the next chapter is already finished. Flustered Lexa will always be one of my favorites 😍


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Lexa struggles with her feelings, Anya is beginning to work a few things out. Raven gets burned by her attitude and Clarke faces a dangerous situation.

In her defense, Lexa manages to watch some of the opening after Clarke takes over the microphone. She turns on the tablet again to see the camera being taken along the walls of the gallery, pausing for a few minutes on each painting, allowing her to take them in. Clarke has a gift for capturing emotions. Her art _is_ breathtaking. With a few brush strokes, she’s able to convey a multitude of feelings, capturing the viewer completely. Just as with the painting above the fireplace, Lexa can not take her eyes off Clarke’s works. She weeps the whole time to the soft music playing in the background, although not solely because of the art.

Waking up the next day, she has a splitting headache. She never even made it to bed, she’s curled up under a blanket on the couch. Lexa groans, trying to remember if she has any painkillers. Probably none strong enough.

There’s Clarke, right behind the open door. Maybe. Maybe a shot at something. And there’s Anya, her only constant for so many years. The only person she trusts. Thinking about them makes Lexa’s head hurt even more. Whichever she chooses, she’s going to lose.

She should send Clarke a message. Tell her how great the opening was. How amazing her art is. And how beautiful Clarke looked. How happy Lexa is for her. How wonderful it was to see Clarke happy. But she can’t.

\---

The message Clarke sends the next day, asking if Lexa is okay, sits unanswered for hours. Lexa wants to talk to Clarke, more than anything, to tell her everything. But it’s scary and it may be dangerous, and she doesn’t want to see the look on Clarke’s face, the mixture of timidity and surprise, just before it turns into fear. Or worse, hatred. She’s seen it too often. People don’t understand. The more Lexa tells them she won’t hurt anyone, the more they seem to fear her. Because she could. 

In her emotional chaos, Lexa evades Anya where she can in an attempt to avoid talking to her because she still wouldn’t know what to say to her. She doesn’t even know what to tell herself anymore. It makes her feel selfish but how could she be if she gives up a chance to be happy without even looking at it? 

The two sisters have never been good at talking things out. They usually ignore each other for a while when they’re angry with each other. As young witches, they used to have epic battles over who was right and thinking back to those times makes Lexa smile for the first time since talking to Clarke on the phone. Indra used to say they were like fire and water, neutralizing each other, and then she made them clean up the mess together. 

Eventually, everything used to go back to normal.

Normality creeps back in this time too. Weren’t it for the infrequent, tiny stings Lexa feels whenever she turns her back on Anya, she would say her sister is coming round. If she hadn’t chosen to refrain from magic, Lexa would return the teasing and make Anya swallow some of her own medicine. But as it is, she can only huff in annoyance when she’s once again startled by one of Anya’s vicious, needle thin light arrows to her butt, trips over her own feet to find her laces tied together suddenly or having to chase after a spoon that hops away whenever she reaches for it. Lexa expects these things. They’re child’s play. Nothing to replace the words they don’t say.

Her thoughts keep going back to Clarke whenever she lets them. Lexa hates not being able to figure out how to talk to her now. How does it work, trying to be friends with someone you feel attracted to? How do you _not_ give in to the attraction, without keeping your distance?

A few times during the next few days, Lexa catches Anya looking at her inquiringly. But she says nothing. 

Lexa picks up her phone a thousand times and always puts it back down. There’s a dark, gaping void inside of her, widening steadily, and she doesn’t know how to make herself feel better. Lexa has never known this longing, this need to be with someone. It has never been so strong, and it puzzles her. Despite the apparent attraction — which is very apparently reciprocated — what else is it that explains the strength of it? 

And because Lexa is even more of a silent brooder than her sister is, she finds an explanation. 

It comes to her when she watches cold water run along her forearm, soothing an angry burn from the spout of the milk foamer, the shape of it perfectly imprinted on her skin.

She’s lonely. She’s so fucking lonely, she’s losing her mind.

\---

On a Sunday, almost exactly two weeks after meeting Clarke, Lexa manages to convince Anya to do a sister thing together, and they go for a walk. It’s a grey, gloomy morning. Fog still lingers between the trees when Anya parks the car and they set off into the woods. 

This is where Lexa started out the day she met Clarke. It was sunnier and felt a lot lighter but Anya loves weather like this. 

“It fits my current witch-mood perfectly,” she mumbles under her breath and sets a quick pace. Anya is always a few steps ahead of Lexa who keeps having to hurry after her, trying to avoid the deepest murky puddles. There’s no time to look at a particularly pretty part of the scenery, marvel at the size of an old tree or try and see which animal it is that Lexa hears rustling through the leaves on the forest floor, somewhere behind the rocks and bushes.

If Lexa had hoped to talk things out with Anya, it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen. Her sister stays ahead of her the whole time, hardly ever looking back to see if Lexa is still there. Her hope doesn’t want to keep running after her sister. Lexa is tired of being punished. 

About an hour into the hike, Lexa calls for a time-out. The sun has managed to break through the clouds a bit and she opens her jacket. Insects hover over every puddle of water and the particularly pesky ones are flying around Lexa’s face. Her helpless flapping does nothing to get rid of them. It reminds her of that other time too. Although until now, she hasn’t fallen once. 

“Do we have to run?”

“I want to be there before noon.”

“Be where?” Since Anya doesn’t stop, only slows down a fraction, Lexa hurries to catch up with her.

“Clarke’s house. I want to see.”

“Are you crazy? I’m not going there, Anya.”

“Why ever not?” Her sister glances at her, pulling her face into a frown. “You like her. Maybe she’s home.”

Lexa stops dead.

“I am _not_ going there,” she repeats, crossing her arms. The tone of her voice finally makes Anya stop and look at her.

“I’m curious,” she says. “Let’s go check out the house.”

“No, Anya, I’m not going there.” Lexa is aware of her voice being slightly panicky. She can’t help it. As far as she knows, Clarke is still at the exhibition, but she doesn’t want to take any chances. Especially when she is unprepared. 

She turns around and starts walking back the way they came.

“Are you coming? Because I’m going back,” she states, hoping Anya will just follow her. She’s hit by Anya’s trademark spell, her ‘invisible fist’, as her sister likes to call it. It’s just condensed air but it still hurts when it hits her right in the middle of her back and Lexa stumbles. She shakes off the impact and keeps walking.

“God, you pussy,” she hears when Anya closes in on her, passes and strides away, once again faster than Lexa. Throwing her hands up in the air in frustration, Lexa sets off after Anya. And stops again. Something is moving behind the trees. Not far to Lexa’s left, rustling through the leaves softly, those that have dried a bit in the sunshine that has been with them for the past hour. The fog only remains in shady areas, like deep in the woods, where Lexa is looking now. Someone is trying to be quiet, hiding, perhaps watching them. Some kind of animal probably. She squints and stares but whatever it is knows how to hide.

“Well, come on then,” Anya shouts impatiently. “You wanted to go home and now you’re just standing there.”

The rustling stops. Lexa waits a few seconds longer, but she can’t see anything. She shrugs and decides to let it go when, suddenly, she hears fast movement. Just behind the line of trees, she sees a small shadow. It’s moving in Anya’s direction. And her sister is looking the other way.

“Anya,” Lexa shouts, balling her fists, ready to summon up a thick mist to hide them and distract the attacker. She starts to run but slows again after a few steps when she sees that Anya has turned around to see what’s going on. And she doesn’t look alarmed at all.

“Look at that,” Lexa hears her say as she comes to a stop. “It’s a cat. Hi, cat.”

“Hi.”

“Oh.” The surprise in Anya’s voice is real. Talking cats aren’t all that common.

It’s Raven, strolling towards Anya.

Fuck.

“Raven,” Lexa greets the cat but hardly gets a response. “What a surprise.”

Raven comes a little closer, smoothly wagging her tail, moving elegantly the way just a cat tail can, paws set perfectly, her yellow eyes shooting a lazy look at Lexa before she stops. She picks a spot halfway between Lexa and Anya and sits down, facing away from Lexa. 

“Lexa.” Raven’s voice drips with indifference. “I’m surprised you had the guts to return to the forest.”

She doesn’t even look at Lexa. She turns her attention to Anya and sits up straighter.

“And who are you?” she asks Lexa’s sister, who hasn’t said another word yet.

“Oh,” Anya mumbles again. She has a soft spot for cats but she hasn’t made an acquaintance like this before. Lexa should warn her.

“This is Raven,” she says. “Clarke’s cat. The little bitch.”

“Doesn’t seem so bitchy to me,” Anya replies, watching Raven stroll close enough to rub her body on Anya’s legs. She circles around her sister’s ankles, moves around again and through, making Anya giggle.

“Seems pretty friendly.”

“Oh,” Lexa warns, “just wait until she lashes out at you. When you least expect it.”

Anya leans down to run her hand along Raven’s back. She’s smiling in a way Lexa hasn’t seen in a very long time. 

“Aren’t you sweet,” she tells Raven who starts purring louder, rubbing up against Anya’s legs some more, pushing her head into the palm of Anya’s outstretched hands and rubbing her chin on it. Her body freezes for a second and in the blink of an eye, the fluffy kitten disappears.

“Anya!” Lexa shouts when she sees Raven claw into Anya’s thigh and hears her sister cry out in pain. She can’t see much more than that because a thick cloud of smoke rises and makes it impossible for her to see. But the noises emerging from it mean nothing good. She hears Anya’s swearing, then a screeching and a thud. When the smoke has finally dissolved, Lexa sees Anya kneeling on one knee on the path, Raven a good way away from her, baring her sharp teeth, the hair on her back standing up, her tail high up in the air and the tip of it still smoldering.

Lexa bursts out laughing and quickly covers her mouth to stifle it.

“You’re a fucking witch too!” Raven hisses.

“I am, kitty-cat,” Anya says, her voice teasing, as she straightens up, stretching her arm out towards the cat. Raven’s fur is pulled up at her shoulders, lifting the rest of her body up from the ground in a scruff grip. Helplessly hanging by the extra skin on the back of her neck, Raven growls. Anya brings her closer.

“Now tell me,” she sneers. “Why on earth would a little cat like you decide to fight a witch?”

Lexa turns at the sound of wings flapping right behind her and manages to get down just as a flock of large birds attacks. They’re not aiming for her though, they’re going for Anya.

“Anya, watch out!” she yells towards her sister, who manages to spin around and duck, but not far enough and one of the bird’s sharp claws cut open her jacket at the shoulder. In her surprise, she drops Raven who runs off as fast as she can.

“What the—” Anya stammers, craning her neck to look at the hole in her jacket. “Did you see that?”

Lexa has finally made it over to her sister.

“It explains a few things,” she muses, looking at where the cat disappeared into the woods. Dense shrubbery blocks her view but she can still sense those yellow eyes looking at them.

“That was my favorite jacket!” Anya grumbles.

“You burned her tail, what did you expect?” Lexa says, unable to suppress a smirk. She puts her arm around Anya’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home. You and I need to talk. I have a theory.”

\---

Clarke shows up unannounced one evening a few days later, half an hour before closing time. It’s already dark. When Lexa looks up, Clarke is suddenly there, seated at her table by the window. It’s Clarke’s table because she sat there once. She brought a book that she puts on the table in front of her. Then she looks up and meets Lexa’s gaze. Her face lights up in a happy smile but when she sees Lexa staring back at her in shock, Clarke’s shoulders fall, wrenching Lexa’s gut. 

This is not how Lexa had wanted to talk to Clarke. Although she can’t blame her for coming to see her. The path from the counter to Clarke’s table looks like a straight line but feels like a minefield. Anya’s eyes pierce into her back as Lexa puts on a brave smile, meeting Clarke’s flickering gaze. 

“Hey, how are you doing?”

Clarke doesn’t answer right away. Her eyes dart across Lexa’s face, taking in her clasped hands, the way she seems to hide behind a chair to avoid having to step too close. 

Her heart betrays her guilt. It jumps in her chest at being so close to Clarke and Lexa shifts uncomfortably. Clarke still only looks at her, forcing Lexa to figure out something else to say. 

“When did you get back?”

It’s not what Clarke wanted to hear, Lexa can tell. Because she knows, it’s not what she would have wanted to hear either. She’s been doing this all wrong. She should have talked to Clarke, at least stayed in touch. Instead, she just did nothing. That has never solved anything. And now Clarke is here and Lexa wants to run away but that, too, has never solved anything. 

She should tell Clarke these things.

“Couple of days ago.”

Clarke still looks tired. Her cheeks are hollow, her skin is a little pale. Lexa puts her hands on the back of the chair she’s standing behind, her knuckles turning white. 

“I didn’t know if you’d want me to call, “Clarke continues. “You never said if you liked the opening. Did you watch?”

“I did. It was amazing.” Lexa tries another smile because the first one didn’t stick. She glances over her shoulder, looking back at Anya who is busy wiping tall latte glasses before putting them back on the shelf. Lexa feels her smile fall again.

“Is everything alright?” Clarke asks, her voice quiet.

“Yeah, everything is fine. I’m just really busy right now.” Lexa grips the chair even tighter. “What can I get you?”

“I came because I said I’d become a regular.” She pauses, looking outside for a moment, “And because you said you would like that.“

“I know.“

“Do you still?”

Lexa whimpers, the sound jumps out before she can stop it. Another whimper bubbles up her throat and Lexa shakes her head a few times to clear it. Clarke frowns, pushing her book aside to lean onto the table.

“What’s up, Lexa?“

“I’ve just been … very busy.”

It sounds like a lie because it is one and Lexa is a shitty liar. The way Clarke looks at her, Lexa has no doubts she can read her like an open book. But Lexa has made up her mind, they will stay just friends. 

“Busy, huh?”

Clarke looks around. It hasn’t been busy all week and it’s not busy now. 

“Why are you so distant all of a sudden? I don’t understand. I thought we were getting on well. I was hoping …,” Clarke’s voice cracks and she closes her mouth. 

“I’m not in a good place right now, Clarke. I wish it were different, but I can’t get into anything now.”

“Anything?” Clarke repeats slowly. She looks offended, like she should be. 

It’s so hard to hold her gaze.

It’s so hard not to falter. So hard not to cry.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Because this feels like giving up something huge and Lexa doesn’t know why. She just can’t work it out. She doesn’t even know Clarke well. All she knows is that standing here at this distance makes her heart hurt. It shrinks painfully in her chest and Lexa gasps. Tears well up in her eyes and she blinks quickly, turning her gaze down at the floor. What is this? She groans. It’s like her head pulling her this way and her heart the other, tearing her into pieces. Why does she feel like this? She wants to reach out and it takes all the willpower she can muster to just stand there. She shivers, feeling cold despite the heaters being on.

“Lexa?”

She can hardly hear Clarke’s voice through the noise in her ears. She’s still looking at her, concern has seeped into her eyes now. This is unlike anything Lexa has ever felt before. She feels alone, frozen, and she doesn’t know why.

It’s an impossible choice. 

“Are you okay?”

“Just coffee, you said?”

“Lexa?”

“I’ll be right back.”

Almost running, Lexa pushes past Anya through the door into the storage room, dropping onto a chair inside. Her heart is beating so fast, Lexa can’t seem to be able to calm it down. Leaning forward, she puts her head down, fearing she might faint. What the hell is going on?

She hears a door and footsteps coming closer. She would recognize Anya’s stylish shoes anywhere.

“What’s the matter?” her sister asks in an unusually soft voice.

“I don’t know, Anya. I’m not feeling well.”

“I saw you talking to Clarke. What did she say?”

“She didn’t say much. It’s more what I’m feeling.”

“Well, what are you feeling?”

Lexa chokes, trying to sort through the mess. 

“God, Anya, it’s impossible to stay away from her. I’m trying to but it fucking hurts. It feels like I know her, like I have known her for a long time. There are words I want to say to her that feel like I can only ever say them to her. It’s … I can’t describe it. It’s driving me crazy. It feels like I have to be with her but at the same time, I can’t.” 

She pauses, her eyes desperately searching Anya’s face. Her sister cocks an eyebrow at the staccato of words that tumble from Lexa’s mouth. Lexa has no idea where they came from. They’re the clearest she has been able to articulate in days.

“The further I stay away from her, the stronger these feelings get. I haven’t slept in a week, Anya, because I lay awake all night thinking about Clarke. Because I can’t stop myself. Are there witches strong enough to do this to me? Is that what it is? Have I been cursed?”

She’s almost crying again. Rubbing the back of her neck to massage it, she tries to get some of the tension out. She looks up at Anya again. Her sister nods, humming, as if she knows something Lexa does not.

“It’s not a curse, Lexa.”

“Then what is it, Anya? Please tell me because -” Her voice cracks. “Because I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

Lexa isn’t used to the gentleness in Anya’s eyes. Her sister bends down a little to put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. The touch is comforting but does nothing to stop her whirling thoughts.

“Do you remember when after our walk I told you how much this place wears me out? How stuck I feel? Like this is a cage that’s slowly suffocating me?”

Lexa nods, choking on her tears and she coughs. 

“We each have our place in this world. You and I have been struggling to find ours. Maybe your place is here, Lexa. Have you considered that?”

“We have always been together. My place is with you, Anya.”

“Maybe it no longer is.”

Lexa looks at Anya in surprise. Her sister’s face is even, soft, her eyes open and serious. In a way, she reminds her of Indra. 

“What do you mean?”

“Indra always told us to look out for each other. I don’t feel at home here. I don’t want to stay here. But you should.”

A strangled sound escapes Lexa’s throat.

“What are you telling me?”

“I’m telling you to run after her.”

“What?” Puzzled, Lexa sits up. Anya’s hand drops from her shoulder and she takes a step back, gesturing towards the door.

“Get her back, Lexa. Don’t let her go.”

“Why? Where is she?” Lexa looks at the door.

“She just left.”

“What?” Lexa jumps up, knocking over the chair she has been sitting on.

“Go. We’ll talk later.”

Anya reaches for her hand, pressing it once, then she smacks her on the butt again, making sure there’s an extra bit of encouraging sting.

“Find her,” she says again, nodding insistently. “Clarke is your answer.”

It’s all Lexa needs.

She runs back out to the shop, scanning the tables but Anya is right. Clarke is gone, only her book still sits on the table. Lexa shoots out onto the dark sidewalk, scanning the street to her left and her right. She’s looking for Clarke’s car, but she can’t see it. It’s too dark, not enough streetlamps. Running down to the right as far as the next street, she looks around the corner. Nothing. It’s likely that Clarke is already gone and Lexa pats her pockets impatiently. Damn! Her car keys are on the dresser in her hallway. She could summon them … but no, no, she can’t do that.

Letting out a frustrated scream, she runs back and past the coffee shop until she reaches an alley. There’s no use in running any further. There’s no sign of Clarke. Hanging her head, Lexa slowly walks back towards the coffee shop. What was she thinking anyway? That Clarke will wait patiently for her to get her shit together? She probably won’t even want to talk to Lexa now. 

Suddenly, there’s the sound of an agitated voice from the alley behind her. Quietly, Lexa creeps back to the corner and peaks around it. Halfway in, she sees two figures in the dark, one small, pressed up against the side wall of the coffee shop, the other tall, towering over the first. This doesn’t look good. Lexa slips around the corner, keeping her back to the wall and her eyes fixed on the two figures. Moving slowly along the wall, she sneaks a little closer. 

“I know who you are! You have money. Give it to me, bitch!” 

Lexa feels blood pound in her ears as she strains to see and curses under her breath when she makes out the smaller of the figures to be a blonde woman that looks very much like Clarke. Who reaches into her bag now, saying something to the robber. Lexa can only make out the words “not much” and “all I have”. The guy steps back, his body tense, his movements rigid. Clarke starts to pull her hand out of her bag slowly, holding up her other hand defensively. Suddenly, he lunges at Clarke, his fist going to her temple and she cries out in pain, sinking to her knees. Her attacker leans down, closing his hands around her neck. Oh fuck, no.

Energy crackles around her as she moves, a familiar fire running through her veins, rising into her head and Lexa knows her eyes glow brightly. The last time she felt her power this strongly was a year ago. It wasn’t good then but it feels really good now. It curses through her body, the force of it almost lifting her off the ground and she lets out a fiery exhale. 

Taking aim, she hits the attacker with a burst of light as he’s leaning in more to finish the job. The impact throws him off balance and he staggers backwards, letting go of Clarke. Lexa sees her body slump against the wall, her head falling to the side. It looks as if she’s asleep. With a furious scream, Lexa hits the robber with another light bolt just as he regains his balance. He groans and falls but scrambles to get up again, moving towards Clarke and Lexa raises her arm, lifting him up in the air. He yelps in surprise and struggles to free himself but her grip is relentless. 

“Get away from her,” Lexa hisses and he jerks his head, trying to find the source of the voice. His eyes widen when he sees her. She doesn’t care what he thinks, the look in his eyes is enough to tell her he is scared shitless. Lexa curls her fingers, knowing it will crush him and he cries out in pain.

“Let me go!”

Lexa growls as a fresh wave of rage washes over her. Her eyes dart over to the motionless painter on the ground. Blonde hair has fallen into her face, her bag has spilled its contents. There’s a hairbrush too.

“Why would I do that?” Lexa thunders, looking back up at the guy that hovers in front of her, his legs kicking the air. 

“You piece of shit. I should squash you like a cockroach.”

She hears a bone crack, probably one of his ribs and he screams, his eyes bulging. She steps closer, lifting her hand so he can see it, then curls her fingers more and he starts to sob. 

“Let me go, you’re hurting me. Let me go.”

“You wanted to kill her, huh? Maybe I shouldn’t stop at hurting you.” Lexa narrows her eyes. Another bone cracks and she grits her teeth. “Maybe I should kill you.” 

A little more and his spine will snap. He struggles to breathe and something wet trickles from his shoes onto the concrete. Disgusted, Lexa realizes he has peed himself and takes a step back. And closes her fist slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I most definitely need a witch, how incredibly useful!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad Lexa! Put him down. That’s not a toy. Put him down! Here, play with this cute blonde instead.

“Lexa, no!”

Somewhere through the noise of blood rushing in her ears, she hears Anya’s voice. Her sister is standing where Lexa stood a minute ago. 

“Stop, Lexa, let him down.”

The ground at her feet starts to shake and Lexa momentarily loses her balance , growling angrily at Anya for using an earthquake on her. Her grip on the robber loosens somewhat though and she hears him draw a series of quick breaths to fill his lungs with oxygen.

“This isn’t you, sis. Let him go.”

“Stay away, Anya.” Lexa lifts her other arm, her fingers spread wide, fixing her glowing eyes on her sister. The imminent danger doesn’t stop Anya. She keeps moving closer, even as Lexa’s arm begins to tremble, until she reaches her and puts her hand on Lexa’s arm, pushing it down. Her eyes are calm, no sign of a glow. 

“You’re not like this, Lexa. You never were. Let go of him. He learned his lesson.”

Her sister’s voice brings Lexa back to her senses. She stares at Anya as if she has only just realized who she is. Her arm drops as she gives up resistance, but she can’t help tightening her other fist once more, hearing the guy gurgle before she lets go of him and he falls to the ground.

“What’s happening?” her voice is weak. Lexa swings around just in time to see Clarke’s eyes close again. She doesn’t know how much Clarke saw but it doesn’t matter right now.

“Take care of her,” Anya says. “I’ll take care of him.”

Lexa nods at her sister gratefully, then kneels next to Clarke. She isn’t conscious but is breathing. Lexa calls her name softly, brushing hair from her face.

“Clarke. Hey, Clarke. Come on, wake up.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Lexa sees Anya forcing the lid of the trash container open. She throws the guy inside and he crashes into the back wall, groaning. The lid closes again and Anya seals it, locking him inside.

“Trash where trash belongs,” she mutters. 

Taking Clarke’s wrist, Lexa feels for her pulse. To her relief, it’s there. But Clarke’s eyes remain closed.

“Please wake up,” Lexa whispers. “I’m sorry. I should have been here sooner. But I’m here now.”

Bringing one arm around Clarke’s back, Lexa slips the other underneath her legs and picks her up, surprised at how easily she can do it without using magic. She has to take her away from here. She can make it right again but not here. Clarke’s head falls against her shoulder and Lexa moves her arm to give her more support.

Halfway up the stairs to her apartment Clarke wakes up. 

“You saved me,” she moans quietly.

“Clarke!” Lexa stops on the last step to look down at the woman in her arms, meeting her confused, searching eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Clarke’s gaze trails off as details of the attack come back to her. A hand goes to her neck and she snivels, her face contorting.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Lexa murmurs, pulling Clarke tighter against her. Clarke’s arms come around her neck and she hides her face against Lexa’s shoulder. Sending a boost of soothing magic, Lexa tries to calm her down a bit but right now, it doesn’t seem to do much. Clarke is too distraught to feel anything. Just as Lexa wonders if she should use a stronger kind of magic, Clarke mumbles quietly into her shirt, her breath heating up Lexa’s skin underneath.

“You saved me. You … how?” 

A long sob follows, Clarke's fingers clawing into Lexa's back.

“What the hell were you doing in a dark alley at night? On your own?” Lexa whispers. She takes the last step and stops at her door, leaning to set Clarke down. But as soon as her feet touch the ground, Clarke flings herself back at Lexa and starts sobbing harder. 

“Hey,” Lexa says helplessly, bringing her arms around Clarke to hold the shaking woman. A hand gets tangled up in Lexa’s hair, brushing across the back of her neck and her skin erupts in goosebumps, making her shiver. She presses her body into Clarke’s without even wanting to but Clarke responds and loops both her arms around Lexa’s neck, her breath coming in fast, shallow puffs in between sobs. So Lexa lifts her up again and Clarke wraps her legs around Lexa’s hips right away.

Not bothering to fumble for her keys, and she really doesn’t want to let go of Clarke, Lexa wills the door to open and close behind them. She carries Clarke into the living room and puts her down on the couch. When she tries to remove her arms, Clarke begins to sob harder again. Lexa sits down with her and Clarke buries her face in the crook of Lexa’s neck. Rubbing slow circles across Clarke’s trembling back, Lexa turns her face up to look at the ceiling. She puffs her cheeks and exhales. That was close. Her heart clenches at the thought of almost arriving too late. It makes her choke to think about it and she looks back down, stroking Clarke’s head. Her distress is palpable, a tangy, bitter taste in Lexa’s mouth.

“It’s okay,” she says quietly. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

“I know.”

Lexa leans down to press a kiss to Clarke’s hair. “I’ve got you.”

And then, quietly, so Clarke won’t hear: “To think I could lose you—”

\---

Lexa doesn’t know how much time has passed but eventually, the trembling subsides and Clarke only sniffles, then sighs and stills in her arms. Lexa doesn’t want to move. She spent the time playing with the different sensations. Depending on where she touches Clarke, it tingles or even vibrates, like when she brushes the bare skin of her neck. When she touches Clarke’s hand, it feels like a kind of energy is passing between them, humming through her fingers. When she rubs across Clarke's back, it feels like velvet she’s touching, warm and almost like a lazy liquid she can trail her fingers through. But whatever sensation it is, it’s always accompanied by a comfortable warmth, just right, not too hot and not too cool, and she can’t seem to be able to stop herself from touching Clarke. Lexa wouldn’t mind just staying like this to explore further. These are very curious sensations; unlike anything Lexa has ever felt when touching a human being.

What’s most curious though is that she doesn’t feel empty anymore, or cold. The intense feeling of longing is gone. Clarke’s presence has seeped into every little gap in Lexa’s soul, filling every void with a silky light, expanding her heart again to allow her to breathe freely. Lexa draws deep, clear breaths and eventually, the steady flow of soothing she sends seems to take effect. For the past ten minutes or so, Lexa has also emitted some comfort. Relieved, she noticed Clarke growing heavier in her arms. Now Clarke hasn’t moved in a while, only snuggled closer.

Lexa isn’t sure if Clarke climbed into her lap or if Lexa pulled her there but they’re closely entangled and it’s wonderful. Clarke’s head on her chest is a counterweight to her wildly beating heart. She doesn’t react at first when she feels Clarke lift her head. Then Lexa opens her eyes.

Her heart almost stops when she sees they’re floating. She hadn’t even realized she was doing it. It’s odd because Lexa is usually very aware of the magic she uses. She does it on purpose, not because she gets carried away. But things seem to be different when she’s with Clarke.

Quickly, she lowers them back down, wondering if Clarke noticed anything. It doesn’t seem like it. Clarke untangles herself to look at Lexa. She’s smiling and Lexa is very happy to see it, even if it seems to take some effort. But then Clarke frowns. 

“What’s up with your eyes?”

“What do you mean?” Puzzled, Lexa blinks a few times. Shit. She forgot to wipe Clarke’s mind. She must have seen the way her eyes were glowing in the alley. Clarke smiles quietly the way Lexa has seen before. She knows, Clarke won’t say more now. But she will when she’s ready. Her gaze darts down to Lexa’s lips and back up, wiping Lexa’s mind of anything other than what's right in front of her. It's part of Clarke’s magic to make the witch forget she is one. 

She’s very close to just leaning in to kiss Clarke because she really, really wants to.

“You know, you’re my hero.” Clarke gives her a shy smile. “You came for me.”

“Of course,” Lexa says gently. “I had to rescue the guy before you’d knock him out for good.”

She smirks, making Clarke chuckle. It’s adorable. 

“That’s not how it went, Lexa.” Clarke is clearly amused.

Lexa gulps. She’s not proud of what she did but she hadn’t been able to stop herself. The thought of the thief’s hands around Clarke’s neck makes the anger boil up in her again. She makes a fist and releases it, looking down at her hand. She has never actually hurt anyone on purpose. She came close but it had never happened. Him, she _wanted_ to hurt. And she had.

“How much did you see?”

Clarke takes her hand, running her thumb across Lexa’s knuckles. 

“Not much.”

Clarke sits up straighter, shaking her head slightly. She’s not letting go of Lexa's hand and bites her lip, expecting Lexa to continue. When she doesn’t, she brings her hand up to cup Lexa’s cheek, gently forcing her to look into her eyes. 

“I don’t understand a lot of what’s going on right now. Actually, nothing at all. But I feel that you are at the center. Tell me, Lexa. About you.”

There’s a lump in Lexa’s throat, once again making it hard for her to swallow. Or speak. She clears her throat and licks her lips, trying to find a reason in Clarke’s eyes why she shouldn’t. There isn’t one.

“Okay,” she starts with a shaky voice. “So I’m a witch …”

\---

Clarke listens quietly, mouth hanging open at first, then excited, nodding occasionally, humming, frowning or smiling when Lexa makes a joke. Perhaps that’s why telling her story feels so easy for Lexa. Because Clarke really does listen, taking part in the conversation even if it is currently a monologue. Lexa talks until her mind is empty. By the time she's finished, her mouth is dry like a desert.

She can only guess by the dark circles around Clarke’s eyes how tired she must be. It's been a rough day and it shows. Clarke has been within reaching distance the whole time although they haven’t touched once, and Lexa craves it. She wanted to reach out a few times but didn’t dare. Now that she's finished with her story, she presses her lips together, waiting for Clarke’s reaction.

“Do you still love her?”

The part about Costia was the hardest. Because Lexa had trusted her. But when they came to drag her from Lexa’s bed, they hadn’t known about her magic yet. It was Costia who had told them that she had been put under a spell. That’s when they came for Lexa and her sister.

“No,” Lexa answers truthfully. It had hurt to have her trust betrayed and be forced out of her home because of it. To have to run away like a criminal when her only crime was to fall for a girl who hadn’t been worth it in the end. Part of her understands how Costia must have been scared into telling those lies. But the part of her that's hurt and disappointed still can’t forgive. Lexa can feel the scar on her heart when she breathes. She rubs her forehead and exhales slowly.

“No, I don’t love her anymore. I’m not even sure I ever have, to be honest.”

Lexa hasn’t seen sadness in Clarke’s eyes before. Seeing it now makes her stomach knot. She lifts her hand and drops it into her lap again. 

“I’m sorry this happened to you.” Clarke says quietly, chewing on her lower lip. “Is Costia the reason you ran away from me?

“Partly. But also because of what I am.”

“I’m not scared of who you are.”

“No, Clarke, not _who_ I am is what’s important. It’s _what_ I am. I ran because of _what_ I am.” Lexa wipes away a single tear away that’s rolling down her cheek and studies her wet fingertip for a moment. When she looks up again, she finds Clarke watching her. She purses her lips, the hint of a smile creeping into her eyes.

“You're stupid, you know.”

“What?”

Clarke takes a moment to consider her words. She chooses them carefully. It’s something Lexa has come to know about Clarke. She saves the words for when they matter. She says them when they mean the most.

“It doesn’t matter to me. Not who you were, not what you are. What I see now is a sweet, caring woman. You’re a miracle. Your soul is broken, Lexa, it blinds you. You're beautiful and a few cracks can’t change that. Let me help you mend so you can see the beauty for yourself.”

“Clarke—” Lexa tries helplessly but she’s at a loss for words. Here’s this almost stranger looking so deeply into her heart, it’s painful. If this is healing, it hurts. Lexa balls a fist and brings her attention back to Clarke, finding her still smiling at her. She’s waiting. 

“I see things differently. That’s what you told me. And I do. I already knew what you are when I came to you the day I left for the opening. Raven told me. She’s … different too.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Lexa allows herself to slump forward, resting her elbows on her thighs. 

“I didn’t get scared. It’s exciting, don’t you think? I came to see for myself.”

“See what? I didn’t do anything.”

Clarke hums. For a moment, it looks like she is going to stay quiet. To Lexa's relief, she continues.

“The glow in your eyes. Raven said it happens when witches get upset. But the eyes glow in a different color when they’re attracted to someone.”

Lexa bites her lip. She can feel the blush creep up across her cheeks and has to look away, her eyes searching for something to focus on. Eventually, she finds the sad little plant by the window. Clarke is watching her intently and when she sees Lexa’s gaze settle, she turns to see what Lexa is looking at.

“Oh, what’s up with the little guy?” she says and gets up, walking over to the plant that sits in a pot by the window. It looks sad. The pot is too big, the stem is too thin and too short and the leaves, those few that it has, are barely able to hold on. Lexa had hoped it would grow, but it doesn’t seem to want to. 

Kneeling in front of the plant, Clarke tilts her head and turns the pot a little. It’s a small rubber tree, grown from a broken branch of a much older, bigger tree. It hadn’t survived the rushed escape. Lexa had held the plant close to her chest, crying, when she realized it had died. It had been Indra’s tree and even though Lexa knew it wasn’t true, she had always believed a part of Indra lived on in it. Indra had loved the rubber tree and taken good care of it and Lexa had loved it too, but let it die. So she had cut off the healthiest branch she could rescue and was trying to grow a new one. But it doesn’t want to grow. 

“I don’t think he likes it here,” Lexa sighs.

“I’m not sure about that.” Clarke says, touching one of the small, limp leaves. Lexa hears her whisper quietly as she touches each of the few leaves, running her fingers along the thin stem. It’s cute. It’s been a rough night and Lexa can’t blame Clarke for wanting to take her mind off all these heavy things. After hours of having her so close, Lexa feels the urge to get up and walk over to her, just stand next to her, somewhere near. But she leans back against the cushions, watching Clarke.

“I’m going to bring Raven over to look at him. She can help.”

Lexa almost laughs out loud. The only things cats do with plants is try to eat them or sharpen their claws on the stems. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Clarke,” she chuckles. “Unless you think all hope is lost and are looking to honor him with a quick death.”

Clarke has turned around, her fingers still gently holding one of the sad leaves.

“Hope is never lost, don’t you know that?”

Lexa's heart starts to race. She knows the intensity with which Clarke looks at her now. She’s done it a few times before, as if she’s searching for something. Her words hang between them, floating softly towards Lexa who can almost feel them entering her chest.

“Trust me, Raven can help.”

“What could a cat possibly do to heal a plant?”

“Do you believe in magic?”

“Umm—“

“I do.”

Clarke gives her a lopsided grin and shrugs. Why is her skin tingling all across her body when Clarke is not even touching her? Clarke stands up and makes her way back to the couch slowly. When she sits down, it’s closer than before.

“I think it’s only fair for me to tell you the truth. Seeing how you saved my life and all.” 

She shifts to find a more comfortable position, adjusts a pillow and sighs. She looks worn out. The events of the night are taking their toll. Clarke’s eyes start to water as she yawns and tries to suppress it.

“I know what it’s like to have to keep something secret,” she starts again, pausing to touch Lexa’s knee. Her hand is gone again before Lexa can reach for it.

“Raven is … not a cat. She's my best friend. She was turned into one by someone. I don’t know who. Raven could probably tell you. She’s from a family of healers and they have some really strange traditions.” She looks up quickly, holding up her hands in defense. “No offense.”

Lexa shakes her head and reaches for Clarke’s hand, gently taking it in hers. 

“It’s okay, us magic folk do have strange rituals.”

“Raven was meant to be married off but she didn’t want to. She’s quite rebellious.”

Clarke chuckles, then a deep crease appears between her brows and she looks to the side, working her jaw.

“Anyway, so when this guy found out she wasn’t going to marry him, he cursed her and turned her into a cat. She ran away. I had just bought the house and was getting ready to move so I brought her here with me. To keep her safe and figure out a way to turn her back. But we haven’t been very successful yet.”

“Well.” Lexa croaks and clears her throat. “I had a theory along that line. Not quite … _that_. But close.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. Multiple falls plus being attacked by squirrels throwing acorns at me? Doesn’t normally happen. I’m not that unsteady on my feet. It was more like someone or something trying to keep me from getting to the house.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and nods.

“I told Raven to stop pestering our visitors. But then she figured out you are a witch and she doesn’t like witches.”

“Not surprising.”

“Raven has been very touchy lately. She doesn’t like being with me all the time. She’s begun to take long walks outside. She’s gone for hours sometimes. No idea what she gets up to. When I came back from my trip, she had a burned tail!”

“Oh. That." Lexa chuckles at the memory. "Umm … that was Anya.”

Clarke looks at her for a moment, then bursts out laughing.

“Really? Well, I’m glad someone is finally teaching her some manners. Not all witches are bad. I told her but she doesn’t want to believe me. Raven hates your kind.”

“And do you?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know a lot of witches. Only you. And your sister. But you don’t seem threatening. I trust you.”

Finally, Lexa is brave enough to pull her closer and Clarke leans her head against Lexa’s chest. Taking a deep breath, Lexa soaks up some of Clarke’s flux. It’s there, flowing gently but steadily. Lexa can breathe it in. Yawning heartily, Clarke hides her face against Lexa’s chest. 

“I knew you were different,” Lexa mumbles, running her fingers through Clarke’s hair. She presses a kiss to her head and Clarke snuggles closer, humming contentedtly. Her eyes are beginning to droop. Lexa shifts a little, moving her arm so Clarke can use it as a pillow.

“You’re tired,” she says quietly. She needs to get Clarke home even though she doesn’t want to let her go at all. Especially not now. 

“Do you want to go home?” Lexa has to ask.

“No,” Clarke whispers. “I want to stay with you. Can I?”

Lexa bites her lip to stifle the wide smile that’s pushing out and wraps her arms tighter around Clarke’s body.

“Of course,” she whispers back. “You can have the bed and I can sleep on the couch.”

There’s no response from the woman in her arms.

“Clarke?” Lexa whispers softly but Clarke doesn’t move, breathing evenly against Lexa’s chest. She’s fast asleep.

Lexa waits another couple of minutes before she gently scoops Clarke up and carries her into the bedroom. Clarke doesn’t react at all. She’s out. Smiling, Lexa puts her down on the bed and takes off her shoes. She can’t really undress her, that would be awkward in the morning. So, Lexa just pulls up the covers, enough so that Clarke won’t get cold during the night.

“Hmm,” Clarke mumbles sleepily. 

“Good night, Clarke,” Lexa says, pressing a kiss to Clarke’s forehead. “Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Mmmm,” Clarkes mumbles again, “mhm-mhm.” A mumbled no.

“Stay.”

Lexa’s heart lurches almost painfully. She hesitates for a moment, her thoughts running wild. But then she chuckles, because this whole thing is strange, and it can’t get any stranger now. She slips out of her shoes but leaves on her pants to keep the awkwardness tomorrow at a minimum. She grabs the covers and hesitates again, looking down at the sleeping woman for a few heartbeats, three to be exact, before slipping underneath. 

Lying on her back stiffly, she wonders what to do. Clarke growls and shifts closer, giving Lexa just enough time to lift her arm before she snuggles up all the way, putting her arm across Lexa’s stomach and then a little higher, her face on the pillow close enough to Lexa’s for a kiss. Lexa snaps her fingers to turn off the lights and leans her cheek against Clarke’s forehead. Things are beginning to make sense. 

She closes her eyes, listening to the even ebb and flow of breath next to her. Lexa smiles happily at the way she fits perfectly into her arms, her body warm against Lexa’s. 

Happy.

That’s new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The little rubber tree is real. It was drowned by a friend who was supposed to look after my plants while my girlfriend and I were on vacation a few years ago. Weeks after our return, I realized the tree was dying. These plants don't need a lot of water, but my friend must have dumped several buckets on it. I never asked her, she would have been horrified to have done that to something she was supposed to care for. One day I wanted to move it and wondered why the pot was so heavy. By then, it was too late. My girlfriend had given the tree to me because she had too many tall plants at her place and I had none. It was very special to me, also because it was probably around 20 years old at the time. I cried when I realized that the roots were already rotting, hardly able to hold the tree up anymore. And there was no cat in sight.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It feels like a fairy tale. It looks like a fairy tale. But is it a fairy tale? A conversation with Anya sheds some light.

Waking up next to Clarke isn’t awkward at all. It feels like a memory of something that has never happened before but should have. They have moved during the night but stayed close, limbs tangled, with Lexa’s face pressed up to the skin of Clarke’s neck and her hand has slipped partly underneath Clarke’s shirt, resting on her stomach. Lexa pulls it back carefully the second she notices, but it still makes her smile. Clarke’s skin is so soft there.

As soon as she opens her eyes, Lexa realizes she has surrounded them with a soft glow. A protecting spell she must have activated in her sleep. She can’t remember. She turns it off just as Clarke wakes up as well, groaning before turning around and then her face breaks into a huge, happy smile when she sees Lexa. Instantly, Lexa’s whole world lights up and the last of the night’s ghosts are chased away from her mind. Because Clarke then kisses her.

It’s only a small, soft kiss, not much more than a peck, but on her mouth, and Clarke’s lips are so soft, hanging on maybe a moment too long to really feel accidental. Clarke pulls back quickly, still smiling, scanning Lexa’s face where she sees nothing but wonder. And then she scrambles inelegantly over Lexa to get to the side of the bed where the door is — even though she could have just gotten out on her side and walked around. It makes Lexa laugh and her heart clenches, a funny feeling in her stomach growing that she thought she’d forgotten. 

“Do you have an extra toothbrush?“ Clarke asks with a mischievous grin, stopping when she’s right on top of Lexa, looking down on her.

“Umm,“ Lexa stammers, the weight of Clarke’s body on top of hers igniting something in her core that she also thought she’d forgotten. “Yeah. Cabinet. Above the sink. Left.“

“Cool, thanks.“ 

Clarke rolls off and jumps out of bed, a little too energetic first thing in the morning for Lexa’s liking, but she doesn’t have to get up right away. She just stays where she is for a little longer, on her back with the covers pulled up all the way, listening to the cabinet doors open and close, and open and close again — because apparently, Clarke has a left-right-weakness just like everybody else. It makes Lexa chuckle. And then she starts to wonder again. Why does it feel this way? Why is it so familiar?

She crawls out of bed after a few minutes too, cringing when she looks down to see her clothes all crumpled. She does her best to straighten them out a bit before looking for Clarke and finding her in the hallway where she stands and looks at herself in the big mirror.

“I look like I’ve slept in my clothes,” she laughs, giving Lexa a nod. “You do as well, by the way.”

“You fell asleep too quickly,” Lexa says softly, stepping up behind Clarke to look at them in the mirror. “And then you didn’t want to let me go.”

Clarke suppresses her smirk by pressing her lips together, but she can’t stop it from traveling up to her eyes, making them sparkle with joy again. Lexa quickly leans in to kiss her cheek, making Clarke chortle, stirring the flutter in Lexa’s stomach that’s getting hard to contain.

It’s the first time Lexa sees the soft glow in her own eyes. She takes a step back, staring into the mirror, and closer again to put her arms around Clarke’s waist. She blinks a few times, but the glow stays. 

“I’m just going to go clean up a bit,” she says, holding Clarke’s gaze in the mirror because seeing her smile is the most beautiful sight and she can’t get enough of it. Reluctantly, Lexa lets go to brush her teeth and finds Clarke in the kitchen minutes later, looking puzzled.

“Don’t you have a coffee maker?”

“Nope.”

“You own a coffee shop!”

“And that’s exactly why I don’t have a coffee maker. There are several downstairs,” Lexa laughs. “Come on, I’ll make you a cup at the shop.”

\---

A little while later, Lexa has retreated to one of the old, heavy armchairs by the coffee shop’s windows. Most of their furniture was found on garage sales and flea markets so nothing really fits. What didn’t work in the shop ended up in Lexa’s apartment. The dark red chair is Lexa’s favorite, worn down enough to sink into it comfortably, just firm enough not to give her back pain. It’s her favorite place to think. 

Clarke’s empty cup is still on the table, Lexa hasn’t cleaned it up yet. Clarke had sweetened her departure with another little kiss, her soft lips pressed to the corner of Lexa’s mouth, holding them there long enough for Lexa to build up the courage to turn her head and kiss her lips. Her heart speeds up again at the thought of it. When she had wrapped her arms around Clarke and pulled her close, feeling her sway into her, she had only had a heartbeat to think about how much she wanted this before it all fell away to the feeling of Clarke’s lips against her own. 

The kiss hadn’t lasted nearly as long as Lexa wanted, especially when Clarke had let out that small, soft moan and pressed against her a little harder. In Lexa’s memory, it had lasted an eternity with her remembering every detail when in reality it was probably only a second, maybe two. She had opened her eyes again, surprised to see Clarke on eye-level because she was up on her toes and had looped her arms around Lexa’s neck. 

“I want to do that again.” The words had resounded in her head when Lexa watched the door close behind Clarke. She had still been staring at it, grinning dumbly, when a car honked outside a couple of minutes later and she had seen Clarke drive past, too dazed still to be able to lift her hand and wave. 

With a sigh, Lexa reaches for Clarke’s cup and pulls it closer to peek inside. Of course. Half of the contents have gone cold. 

“Remind me to make you a small cup the next time,” she mutters and moves to get up, almost crashing into Anya.

“Jesus!” Lexa gasps. “What are you doing sneaking around here?”

“It’s our free day and I came to read. And talk to you," Anya says stiffly, clasping her book tighter. “Neat to find you already waiting for me.”

“I wasn’t—” Lexa rolls her eyes at herself. “I saw Clarke off.”

“Ah, she spent the night.” Anya drops the worn looking book on the round table between them and points at the chair Lexa just got up from.

“Sit! I’m going to get us coffee.”

“Can I just—?” Lexa asks, lifting Clarke’s cup. She stops dead at Anya’s raised eyebrow, a look her sister has perfected. It means no. Lexa surrenders the cup as she walks past Anya and flops down into the appointed armchair. 

It’s time for a decent talk too. The coffee maker gurgles and she hopes Anya isn't preparing her infamous triple forte for her because her heart has enough to deal with as it is. A few minutes later, Lexa accepts the cup Anya offers her and sniffs warily. Hazelnut. Hm. 

"What's up with you?" Anya asks after carefully evaluating her. “You look … happy.”

When Lexa doesn’t respond (because she’s busy trying to suppress a grin), Anya throws her hands up in the air and lets out a deep sigh of relief.

“Finally! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to see this?”

Lexa snorts and quickly hides behind her cup. She takes a sip and puts it down on the table. The coffee is good and shouldn’t affect her heart too much.

“Thank you for last night, Anya,” she says gratefully, not quite managing to look at her sister. “I almost killed him.”

Anya’s response isn’t instant. Instead, she tilts her head and gives Lexa another scrutinizing look. Then she nods.

“I called an ambulance for him. I suspect he’ll have to spend a few days at the hospital. You have a tight grip.”

Lexa cringes. Never before had she felt so furious. It had made her lose all sense of reason. She swallows, looking at her hands. She wanted to hurt the guy because he was hurting Clarke.

“You were angry,” Anya continues undeterred, “but you’re not cruel. How is Clarke, by the way? You know, the pretty girl that makes you go all mushy.”

Lexa is tempted to throw something at her. Although she can’t deny it. And she doesn’t want to. 

“She’s fine,” Lexa says, remembering Clarke clinging to her and not wanting to let go. “I didn’t even need to do much, she bounced back well.” 

"I'm sure it was your loving care. You've always been good at comforting others. Not so good with yourself though."

Lexa stares into her cup. She swirls it, watching a small wave travel around the inside until it spills over the rim. Reaching for a napkin to wipe up the mess, she looks up at Anya.

“I told her everything. She knew anyway. Raven told her about the kitchen incident.” Lexa exhales slowly. “Raven is not just a cat. She was cursed.”

There's no surprise in Anya's features.

“Yeah, I figured something was up with her. No crow in their right mind would attack a witch unless it’s told to. But healers can do that." Anya taps her temple. "I did a bit of thinking of my own. And went to talk to Raven early this morning. She doesn’t really trust witches. I, uh, managed to change her view on us.”

“How did you manage that?”

“Did you notice the rainwater barrel on the side of Clarke's shed?”

“You didn't!”

“I dumped her in it and told her to calm down and then I talked to her. I think she likes me now.” Anya smiles triumphantly.

Lexa finds it difficult to feel sorry for Raven. The cat has been a pain in the ass since Lexa first set foot in Clarke's house. She knows Anya's rough methods though, not really sparing anyone. Lexa has been on the receiving end many times too.

“She has a good reason to dislike witches.” She can’t believe she’s taking Raven’s side.

“I know.” Anya says, burrowing her forehead. “She told me. I've heard of the guy too. He’s nasty. Indra told me about him. He’s just the kind who would want to get hold of a healer.”

She leans forward in her chair, putting her hand on the book.

“Their healing powers promise a long life. That guy is so old, he must be desperate.”

She pushes the book towards Lexa. It’s one of Indra’s, one of many Anya has held on to. Books with spells and recipes and books with stories, true ones and not so true ones. This book is one with stories, Lexa realizes when she turns it around to look at the cover. 

“I told Raven I'd look for a clue in my books, see if I can find anything to help her. With a strong curse like this, the witcher may be the only one who knows how to reverse it." Anya pauses and nudges her chin at the book Lexa is still only looking at. "When I went through Indra’s library, I came across this. I marked the page. Read.”

Dutifully, Lexa opens the book. Indra used to read from books like this one whenever Lexa had been scared as a little girl. When she was hiding beneath the covers in her bed, afraid of her powers and the whole world, Indra sat down on the edge with one of her old leather-bound books. 

Lexa runs her fingertips across the old paper, feeling its roughness, and traces the large letter at the beginning of the text. A simple _O_ — for a sentence starting off like this:

_Once upon a time_

Lexa doesn’t have to read much further than the first line to remember the tale. It’s a story about true love. Smiling, Lexa reads the story of the witch that was so lonely, her hair had turned grey and her eyes dull. She was bitter and mean, scaring away any human who would dare to come close. Everyone was afraid of her. 

One day, the witch went for a walk along the creek near her house when she heard someone singing. It was the most beautiful thing the witch had ever heard. She disguised herself as a young servant, coming to fetch water from the creek, and approached the young woman sitting on a rock, singing softly to herself. They talked kindly for a while and when the girl said she needed to go home now, the witch walked with her to the edge of the village. She returned to her house and smiled for the first time in many years.

The witch went back to the creek the next day to look for the girl, only to find her there already, waiting for her friend. They met regularly from then on. The girl sang for the witch and the witch told her stories. Whenever the girl laughed, the witch felt her heart warm until one day, she realized the ice around it had melted. The more time she spent with the girl, the more she wanted to be with her. But she was always wearing the disguise of a young servant and knew she could never reveal herself. Saddened and hopeless, the witch stopped coming to the creek and her heart turned cold once more.

Time passed and she grew unhappy again and angry, even more bitter than before because she could never have what came to others so easily. She would never be loved. Until one day, she heard a familiar voice near her house. She looked outside to see the girl standing in front of her house, singing the witch’s favorite song. In her surprise, the witch forgot to disguise herself. The girl asked why she had stopped coming to the creek. And the witch told her why, also remembering that the girl was just then looking at her in her real form. But the girl wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t appalled. She had known from the beginning. She had seen it in her eyes.

With a pang, the ice sprang from the witch’s heart and she took a deep breath, shedding her old skin and hair, emerging as the young servant she had chosen as a disguise. It had been her all along.

And yeah, they lived happily ever after. 

Lexa had loved this story as a little girl. She had fallen asleep calmly after listening to these words, read to her by the woman who almost felt like her mother. One day, she was sure, she would feel safe too, sheltered and loved, welcome, at home. She had looked for her girl. Searched all over. Because Indra had told her someone was out there, looking for her too. But Lexa hadn’t found anything but shallow relationships and betrayed trust. And no-one had ever looked for her.

Eventually, Lexa had begun to understand that the story was nothing more than just that: a fairytale. She would never find what it promised. Never find what she was longing for the most. Because it didn’t exist. It was only a bedtime story for a scared, little witch.

Lexa draws a shaky breath. Blinking away a few tears, she looks up at Anya who studies her calmly, her mouth pulling into a kind smile.

“This was your favorite story,” Anya says softly, putting her hand over Lexa’s.

“I thought it was just a fairy tale,” Lexa replies with a heavy tongue. Somewhere beneath the numbness, she feels a little spark. Excitement, pushing through the disbelief. 

“Lexa, I thought you were smarter. Didn’t you work out that staying away from Clarke was the exact opposite of what you should be doing? I saw what it did to you to keep your distance. You also never sported blue eyes.”

Lexa's mouth feels dry and she takes a sip of her coffee. 

“What color are Clarke’s eyes?” her sister asks.

Blue.

The kind of blue Lexa’s eyes take on whenever Clarke is near. Attraction, visible for everyone who knows. Lexa stares at the words in the book numbly until they begin to dance before her eyes. Closing it slowly, she pushes it back towards Anya. There's an ancient symbol on the cover and Anya starts tracing it with her fingers. Lexa stares at Anya’s hand, her gaze gradually fading until she sees nothing anymore. Anya’s hand comes to rest on the book and very slowly, Lexa looks up at her sister, desperate for something to calm her wildly beating heart. 

Anya smirks and Lexa feels dumb. For most of her young life, she held on to Indra’s tales, eventually accepting them to be nothing more than … tales. After all these years, she had given up looking. It feels sweetly ironic that in the end, it would be someone who found her lost in the forest. Someone who was looking for her. Indra even told her about the eyes. How after meeting, she would crave the other’s presence, hurt when they couldn’t be close, and thrive when they were. Clarke’s blue eyes had reflected in Lexa right away, because her soul had already known when her mind still didn’t know what it was looking at.

Lexa stares down at the table, her eyes darting around aimlessly, looking for something to attach themselves to. Her mind is racing, making it impossible to form a clear thought. When she looks up, Anya is smiling at her. She gives a little satisfied nod, looking pleased with herself.

“Now you understand.”

Lexa barely brings out more than a whisper, there’s hardly any oxygen left in her lungs. She puffs her cheeks. Overjoyed and scared at the same time, Lexa can feel her heart struggling to break free. She had thought it was making her weak, when all this time, her heart had known exactly what was right. When she had struggled with her confusing, quickly deepening feelings after meeting Clarke, her heart had tried to show her the way. But she hadn’t listened. 

There’s a painful twitch in her chest, a jolt of electricity shooting through her body, finally breaking the chains. Lexa feels them fall away. Her breathing quickens, fresh energy streaming through her veins. How could she have been so blind?

Anya, to Lexa’s utter surprise, blinks away a tear in the corner of her eye. 

“Now you’re happy, little one, and even I can see it.”

Lexa can’t help but laugh. Anya hates serious talk, but Lexa can see in her eyes that her sister means what she's saying. She nods at her, squeezing her hand once more before letting go. Grinning, she shifts to get up from the booth.

“I’ve got to go find Clarke.”

Standing in the middle of the room, Lexa pulls up an orb to look for Clarke. She finds her in her studio. Lexa touches the fingers of her other hand to the orb and a cloud of smoke travels up from the floor, twirling around her until it has enveloped her completely. When the cloud dissolves, Anya is alone, staring at the spot where Lexa stood last, shaking her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The greatest fun in a writer's life is dropping hints. And reading comments 😉


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bringing Roger as her backup when she meets Clarke, Lexa finds the courage to put it all out there. Like, everything. So much of it that it ends up annoying the hell out of Raven again but this once, Lexa couldn't care less about the cat.

Reappearing exactly where she plans to was one of the hardest magical tasks to master and Lexa hasn’t done it in a while. She aims for the spot at the foot of the small staircase leading up to Clarke’s porch and she opens her eyes carefully once she has materialized fully.

To her relief, she’s just where she wanted to be. Clarke isn’t expecting her, so Lexa picked this spot in particular because she didn’t want to startle her. She should have called, but the urge to see Clarke had been overwhelming. She’s jittery. Her heart is beating up in her throat. It didn’t even occur to her to check her orb, but Clarke’s car is in the shed, so she’s likely to be home. Lexa almost takes the first step before she hesitates.

Looking past the plant pot in her arms, she realizes she never even changed her clothes. They’re still the same she slept in. With an annoyed grunt, she puts the pot on the ground and twirls her hand, equipping herself with a fresh set of clothes and combed hair because she really looked like a crazy witch last time she checked herself in a mirror. She brushes off some non-existent dust and runs her fingers through her hair nervously.

She's being silly. With a deep sigh to calm her nerves again, Lexa picks up the little rubber tree again. She made a quick detour to her apartment to bring it. It’s her plan B on the off-chance that Clarke doesn’t feel the way Lexa does — and her heart plunges into her stomach at the thought. She’s bringing the tree for Raven. She’s all set.

Slowly, Lexa walks up the steps. Her hand trembles slightly when she lifts her arm and shakes it a few times to loosen it before knocking. Too softly. Not loud enough to be heard in Clarke’s studio. She’s just about to knock again, harder this time, when the door opens.

“Hi.” Clarke leans against the door frame, holding on to the door, and gives her a bright smile.

“Uh, hi,” Lexa stammers and she beams because that’s just what she does every time Clarke smiles at her.

“I thought that might be you,” Clarke says softly. Unlike Lexa a minute ago, she has changed her clothes. She’s wearing a shirt that’s too big and covered in paint splashes, her hair is held back by a bandanna to stop it from falling into her face. Last night’s events don’t seem to have had a lasting effect. Or maybe Clarke just really shook it off very well. 

“Were you waiting behind the door?” Lexa wonders, scratching her forehead. Then she realizes it’s probably because of the security system Clarke told her about. Of course. There’s a camera just above the door and Clarke must have seen her the second she appeared. No surprise here.

“Where’s your car?”

“Oh, uh, I chose a different means of transport.”

Clarke narrows her eyes and hums, nodding at the plant pot Lexa is holding.

“And you brought little gummy.”

Lexa snorts. She never thought of a nickname for the tree. To her, it was only ever ‘Indra’s tree’. That’s no longer true though. It’s her tree now.

“His name is Roger.” She holds the pot up a little higher. “I thought maybe Raven could have a look at him?”

Lexa will be damned if she bursts out with the real reason why she’s here. Clarke studies her for a moment, leaning her head against the door frame. When she looks at her like this, Clarke’s eyes take on a special kind of sparkle that make Lexa’s heart stumble. She almost drops the pot because her arms want to reach for Clarke instead.

“Roger?” Clarke repeats slowly and laughs, pushing the door open all the way. “We really need to find a different name. And you need to come in.”

Once Lexa is inside, Clarke takes the pot from her and puts it down on the floor, mumbling something about dealing with it later. The door clicks into the lock and Clarke steps closer, peering at Lexa from underneath her lashes. 

“You didn’t come here for Raven, did you?”

“Uh—”

Instead of waiting for her reply, Clarke wraps her arms around her. A wave of relief washes over Lexa. She’s still surprised at how much pleasure it is just to hold Clarke close. She closes her eyes briefly and imagines herself melting into a puddle because that’s exactly what her body wants to do.

“I felt you,” Clarke murmurs, gently rubbing her cheek along Lexa’s jaw. “You made my heart stutter.”

 _That_ does absolutely nothing to calm Lexa’s own stuttering heart and she numbly watches Clarke’s hand come up to cup her cheek. Leaning into the touch, Lexa feels Clarke’s thumb gently grazing the corner of her mouth. She presses a soft kiss to Lexa’s lips and pulls back, daring Lexa to follow her. When she does, half of her kiss lands on Clarke’s teeth because her smile is so wide, and they both chuckle. Clarke nips at Lexa’s lower lip gently before sliding her hand around to the back of Lexa’s neck, pulling her in softly, turning the fumbling into a very serious kiss. 

It’s a massive escalation to the one from the coffee shop. There’s longing in it, so much of it, and Lexa doesn’t even try to find a reason to fight it. She allows the feeling to drag her under and finds herself kissing Clarke back with fervor. It sets her whole body on fire. Her hands start to travel across Clarke’s body, pushing up her shirt to feel her skin before moving up her back, into her hair, pulling off the bandanna so she can run her hands through freely. Lexa grabs a fistful and pulls gently, kissing along Clarke’s jaw and down her neck before returning to her lips. She hears a little moan, and a hot shiver travels up her spine. A pleasant heat spreads through her body and she knows it’s not only her own. Tuned into her completely, Lexa gets hit by the full force of Clarke’s feelings.

“Fuck.”

Breathing heavily, Lexa pulls away. She feels light-headed and extremely single-minded and judging from the expression on Clarke’s face, she’s not the only one. 

“Don’t do that,” Lexa pants, trying to put out the raging fire in her core. 

“Do what?”

“Kiss me like that.” 

“Why not?” Clarke’s eyes are hooded, and she wraps herself in Lexa’s embrace again. 

Putting her cheek against Clarke’s head, Lexa closes her eyes. They stand like that for a while until the room stops shaking and Lexa feels she can trust her senses again. There are no boundaries to Clarke’s emotions. It’s something she must keep in mind. She has to remember to protect herself. 

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Clarke whispers, her voice dangerously close to Lexa’s ear where she feels her breath tickling.

“Same,” Lexa mutters, unable to stop her eyes from fluttering shut when she feels puffs of warm air travel down her neck. She grabs Clarke’s wandering hands. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you came here for Raven,” Clarke teases and chuckles.

Feeling brave, Lexa kisses her again and this time, she lets her tongue trail along Clarke’s lips, feeling her open them. She dips inside, brushing against Clarke’s tongue just once and withdraws, grinning when she hears Clarke whimper. 

“Do we really have to talk?” The sound of Clarke's voice sends another shiver up Lexa's spine. 

Oh god, this is making her feel so many things. Her skin is prickling delightfully, not only where Clarke touches her but all over. It’s a sensation Lexa should be used to by now when she’s around Clarke, but it makes her feel so warm all over and somewhere below her belly button, the fire blazes up again. 

“I’m most definitely not here for Raven”, she murmurs against Clarke’s lips. “But I’d really like to talk to you.”

Clarke’s head slumps against her shoulder and she sighs dramatically.

"If we must."

“Let's go sit down.” Before she has a chance to change her mind, Lexa gently guides Clarke into the living room. “It’s probably silly but I want to tell you something.”

They sit, a chaste distance between them but their knees are touching and it’s distracting because it tingles and makes Lexa dizzy. The house is quiet except for soft music coming in through the open studio door. Lexa recognizes the song. It’s an old favorite of hers that always brings back some good memories. She briefly wonders where Raven might be. But the cat really doesn't matter right now. 

“When I was little,” Lexa starts after taking a deep breath, “I was told a story. A fairytale. Anya made me read it again today and I—”

Clarke lifts her eyebrows to signal she’s listening and for a beat, Lexa can’t continue, too strong is the wish to just kiss her again. She doesn’t want to tell Clarke about the story. She doesn’t want to tell her about witches and fairytales and magic, because that’s not what this is about. She takes another deep breath.

“I came here to tell you that I’m in a better place now. To be honest, I’m exactly where I need to be. I’m in the perfect place.”

“What are you saying?”

“You know how my eyes glow?”

“Yeah,” Clarke grins, “it means you’re attracted to me.”

“It does. And I am.” Very eloquent. Lexa is still distracted by Clarke’s knee rubbing against hers.

“You know how I feel because I can’t hide it. Which puts me at a disadvantage.” Though Clarke’s kisses don’t hide anything either. “The funny thing is when I’m close to you, they glow blue. Your color.” 

Clarke drops her gaze and pulls her forehead into a frown. 

“They’re blue because mine are?” she asks with a trembling voice. Lexa nods even though Clarke can't see it.

“It’s rare. There are tales about witches finding their true love and their eyes—,” Clarke lifts her head to stare at her. It worries Lexa. “Well, they match, even if the witch's eyes are a different color. It’s probably nonsense.”

Clarke gulps audibly.

“But I’m not here because of that,” Lexa says quickly searching for a sign of reciprocation in her eyes, but Clarke only continues to look at her. 

“I mean, I am, but it’s not … shit. It’s complicated.”

She hangs her head, convinced she’s messed it up. Of course, this is way too much for a human to understand. Lexa becomes aware of time ticking away. The old clock works inerrantly, the sound of a chance slipping through her hands. She counts the seconds, trying to fight the drowning feeling that’s choking her. Dropping her eyes, she examines her hands in her lap. She turns them and flexes her fingers. Her magical hands. No magic can make someone fall in love with her. She knows this and yet—

“Is it, Lexa?” Clarke’s voice is soft as she reaches for Lexa’s hands. “Is it complicated?”

Lexa doesn’t look up. Stubbornly, she keeps her gaze fixed on their hands. For what feels like an eternity, nothing else happens. The music from the studio has stopped and Lexa wishes it were still there to mute her heartbeat. She frowns as Clarke grips her hands more firmly.

“I know you’re struggling with what being a witch means, but why are you trying to deny something you know to be true? Do you really think I don’t feel the same?”

Clarke leans in, bringing her lips close to Lexa ears. And then she starts to hum. Lexa recognizes the song instantly. It’s the one she heard when she arrived. 

”I put a spell on you.” Clarke’s raspy voice is enough to short-circuit Lexa’s brain instantly. Especially, since she continues, delivering the next line with an exquisitely jazzy voice: “Because you’re mine.”

Goosebumps erupt all over her body. She loves Clarke’s husky voice when she speaks but she had no idea she could use it to sing like this. Lexa is intensely aware of soft lips nibbling on her ear and it makes her very hot. Carefully, she lifts her head. Her timid gaze meets smiling, bright eyes, a hint of mischievousness in them that Lexa has seen many times before. Only this time, it makes Lexa’s heart beat a lot faster.

“It’s such a pretty blue, too,” Clarke says, leaning back to study Lexa’s face, who turns a shade darker under her gaze, desperately hoping to be able to find her words again. She clears her throat and opens her mouth but all that comes out is a croak. Lexa is well aware that her eyes are probably glowing brighter than they ever have before in a color that has nothing to do with fear or anger. She clears her throat again to finally loosen the constriction. 

Clarke chuckles and leans in to press her lips against Lexa’s. Lexa kisses her back because it's what she’s wanted to do since Clarke opened the door and then all these words tumbled out and she confused herself. Around Clarke, her head gets fuzzy. But Clarke’s touch anchors her. Kissing her anchors her even more. The closer they are, the more Clarke grounds her.

“Clarke,” she mumbles against her lips, enjoying the way happiness tugs at her lips, and finally manages to detach herself by leaning her forehead against Clarke’s. “If you choose to be with me, there’s something you should know.”

“Are you _trying_ to scare me by sounding really dubious now?” Clarke leans her head back to arch one brow, giving the crooked smirk that goes with it.

“No. You may even … like it.”

Lexa gets up, pulling Clarke up into her arms. She’s tense, excited, a little giddy. Lexa feels it when Clarke presses her body against hers. Although she may be confusing it with her own feelings. There's no fear. She waits for the old clock to finish chiming, holding Clarke even closer, grins when she hears a tiny gasp as their noses touch. Clarke’s breath whispers across her lips. It would only take the smallest movement to kiss her. Lexa runs her lips softly along Clarke’s, never quite turning it into a kiss, then moves them to Clarke’s ear, nudging her hair aside with her nose.

“This is what it feels like to be close to a witch.”

She can’t be bothered to pull up her protection. She takes a step back, taking Clarke’s hands as energy moves through her, feeding into Clarke and Clarke moans quietly. She’s feeling it. Lexa’s body tingles all over, stronger than it has before because for once, she’s not holding back. A soft, pulsating light starts to travel along her arms, through their entwined hands, through Clarke’s arms and her whole body. It's barely more than a soft hum at first but it picks up speed and Lexa exhales audibly as she opens herself up fully. It feels amazing and Lexa hopes it feels the same for Clarke.

She checks on her quickly but she seems alright. Clarke stands quietly with her lips slightly parted, drawing in breath after breath. Embers float around Lexa's body, setting fire again to the spot deep down. This time, she does nothing to smother it. Clarke is beautiful, her face is flushed and she’s breathing through her mouth. So sexy. Lexa can’t stop the moan that slips out as every cell in her body lights up with energy. The sound draws a smirk from Clarke.

She’s been with women who were intimidated by her, never quite able to unleash their passion. Clarke isn’t like that. The response coming from Clarke is unfiltered and hits Lexa with the full rawness of her desire. It takes all of Lexa’s willpower to break the connection. The light disappears and she lets go of Clarke’s hands. Still a little dazed, Lexa slowly gains focus again. She hasn’t quite managed to reassemble her senses and it appears, Clarke isn’t quite back in reality either.

“Woah,” Lexa mutters, “that was intense.”

Clarke doesn’t say anything, she just stares with wide eyes, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes are shining in excitement and her hand comes up, hovering in front of Lexa’s face for a moment before she touches her fingertips to Lexa’s jaw. Her hand is trembling and Lexa cups it with hers.

“Clarke?”

Nimble fingers start running through her hair as Lexa tries to breathe, feeling Clarke’s hungry lips on hers. It’s a sloppy kiss at first but it’s exciting in its determination, unapologetically asking for more. It’s over before Lexa’s mind can grasp what’s happening. 

“I don’t want to contain it any longer, Lexa, I’m going to explode,” Clarke breathes, her eyes a shade darker than normal.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want that,” Lexa mumbles into another kiss. “Not here anyway. Hold on tight.”

With a soft puff, they disappear and drop onto the bed in Clarke’s upstairs bedroom, almost on top of Raven who had been sleeping there and isn’t happy about the interruption. 

“What the hell?” she hisses, stalking across the bed to hop off at the foot end. “I don’t want to see that.”

“Good,” Clarke mumbles, drawing Lexa close for another heated kiss. “Close the door.”

\---

After-sex Clarke feels delicious, and Lexa can’t get enough of her. She kisses the soft skin on Clarke’s stomach, enjoying the feeling of a hand that plays with her hair. Lexa's fingers draw small circles around Clarke’s hip bone, making her twitch and giggle a little. Lexa enjoys the sound so much that she leans to kiss the spot, her reward being a small moan. Clarke is still very sensitive, no matter where Lexa touches. But she doesn’t want to stop. She allows her fingers to travel further south, down Clarke’s thigh a little, then back up towards her crotch where she spends some time exploring the softness of her outer lips and the wetness that has gathered there when they made love.

Clarke’s hand is still on Lexa’s head, her fingers running through her hair gently and she moans softly as Lexa dips in one finger, moving it very slowly through the slick heat, pushing it inside just a little bit. She hears Clarke’s exhale and the hand on her head stills. Lexa sends a mild pulsing, just enough to excite Clarke a bit more and only stops when Clarke pulls at her hair. She’s purring with contentment. 

Moving up, Lexa molds her body to Clarke’s naked form, amazed at how perfectly they fit together. Not even a breath of air could pass between them. She leans in to kiss Clarke, savoring the softness of her lips, the silky touch of her tongue. Clarke slows the kiss down to such intensity that it makes Lexa shiver. Immediately, Clarke wraps her arm around her tighter and Lexa sinks into Clarke’s warmth.

“Are you cold?” Clarke asks softly, her hand blindly patting the mattress next to her, trying to get a hold of the covers. They’re on the floor in a heap with their clothes. There had been very little time to get rid of everything.

“No,” Lexa whispers, “I’m just … enchanted.”

Clarke chuckles.

“I thought _you_ were the witch.”

“That’s what I thought too but you're teaching me differently.” 

“Were you holding back?” Clarke asks innocently enough, and she would fool Lexa, weren’t it for the little smirk Clarke tries to hide.

Lexa grins, thinking for a moment. “A little bit. I didn’t want to overwhelm you. You weren’t afraid, were you?”

“No,” Clarke assures her and lowers her voice. “Next time, don't hold back.”

She shifts a little to face Lexa, her features soft and content, weren’t it for the sparkle in her eyes as she lets them roam around Lexa’s smiling face. Lexa does her best not to gape but how else would she confine the image to her memory?

“I could just eat you up!” Clarke says quietly. She thinks for a moment. "Is it okay to eat a witch? Wouldn’t want to be turned into a toad.”

“I would never do something like that,” Lexa insists, laughing, but she feels tips of her ears burn when she realizes the double entendre.

“But you could?”

“Yeah.”

Lexa lifts one hand in a gesture she has learned most people expect before a spell is cast. Clarke is no exception. For a second, she seems alarmed but then she starts to laugh, reaching for Lexa’s arm to push it down and wriggles on top of her.

“You’d be a very cute toad,” Lexa says, laughing harder when Clarke starts to tickle her.

There’s something very natural about their interactions. Lexa had to remind herself a few times that she hasn’t really known Clarke very long. She wants to pinch herself now, just so she knows it’s not a dream. Her heart seems to remember Clarke, like her body seems to remember her, how to move with her, creating a whole universe of passion, comfort and solace.

When Clarke kisses her again and starts touching her again, nibbling down her throat, it feels like they have done this a hundred times and at the same time, never before. Clarke draws one of her nipples up into her mouth and sucks, bites a little and soothes the pain immediately, and very soon, all coherent thoughts have left Lexa’s mind and she feels. She feels so much that she wants to cry with happiness. Her heart is so full, it almost bursts. But she also just wants to melt into Clarke and keep her there, as close as possible.

She groans loudly at another bite as Clarke continues her journey, kissing down Lexa’s stomach, her fingertips following her mouth, fluttering across Lexa’s skin. She keeps moving, settling between Lexa’s legs where she doesn’t miss a beat, she pushes them further apart and dives in. The first swipe of Clarke’s tongue makes Lexa's world stop. It’s hot and wet and so soft and Lexa can’t suppress another deep moan. Long, velvety licks soon have her moving her hips in rhythm, trying to bring herself closer to Clarke’s mouth.

“Lexa, be quiet.”

“I can’t,” Lexa moans again in ecstasy, waiting for the next swipe of Clarke’s tongue.

“Shhh! Do you hear that?”

“What? Why are you stopping?”

Lexa’s body falls back down to the mattress and she lifts her head. Clarke is listening for something and Lexa tries to sharpen her senses again, taking them away from the feeling of Clarke’s breath between her legs. 

Clarke is right. Quickly, Lexa jumps out of bed and sneaks over to the door, still trying to catch her breath. She shivers when cool air hits her hot center. Leaning closer to the door, she listens. It’s faint but it’s there. Putting her hand flat against the door, she sends a visibility spell, making the area around her palm turn transparent so she can see the corridor outside the bedroom. It’s empty. Lexa presses her ear to the door once more to listen and hears the bed creak quietly behind her. Clarke has moved to the edge of the bed and is about to get up.

“Stay there,” Lexa tells her, holding up her hand, and Clarke freezes at the tone of her voice. 

“Voices. Two. One is … wait.” Lexa turns her head to press the other ear down. It only takes a second to turn up her senses enough to hear more clearly. “What the hell? Anya?”

Lexa almost rips the door open before she remembers she isn’t wearing any clothes. She searches for them in the heap of clothes on the floor and starts laughing. 

“What’s your sister doing here?” Clarke asks her but Lexa can only shrug as she sorts through the clothes and hands Clarke hers. The ice bucket that was dumped over her head a minute ago has sobered her up but she relaxes now, feeling the charged up energy drain from her again. Clarke is giggling too as she stumbles into her jeans, almost falling back onto the bed. When they kiss, Lexa tastes herself on Clarke’s lips. They're still a little high, giggling, sharing small kisses, laughing, because the situation is absurd. Finally dressed, Lexa runs her hands through her hair.

“Ready?”

Clarke shrugs. “I guess.”

Lexa takes Clarke’s hand, opens the door and, tiptoeing, they make their way downstairs. They find Anya in the living room. Raven is curled up in her lap and they’re talking quietly. They don’t even notice the two of them until Clarke clears her throat. Raven rolls onto her back, stretching a little and allowing Anya to scratch her belly.

“About time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know exactly who made me finish this today and post it and I hope DialedIn does too. I'm going to be bummed out again tomorrow but, damn, I still love this story 😍


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya and Raven have a plan and Lexa is in for a surprise. Maybe a fairy tale can become true after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the one with the magic sex for anyone who cares or wants to avoid - near the end of the chapter. Do not miss out on the fluff though 😍

“Hi, sis,” Anya says, not even glancing up. She proceeds to pet Raven, undeterred by the interruption.

“How did you get in here?” Clarke asks, stepping closer to Lexa. Seeing Anya so contentedly cuddling the cat is a surprise to Lexa. But it’s even more surprising to Clarke. A far cry from the grumpy person Clarke met at the coffee shop the other day.

Anya’s hand stills and Raven turns over, lazily getting up to sit next to Anya. She stays close enough to put her paw on Anya’s thigh who starts to absently pet her again. Anya scratches Raven’s chin, smiling down at her when she feels her lifting her head to give better access. Then Anya seems to remember the question and gives Clarke a puzzled look as if the question is completely incomprehensible.

“The way my sister did, I assume. I materialized on the couch.”

Lexa slowly shakes her head, biting down on her lip. 

“Lexa knocked,” Clarke says, slightly offended, and Anya’s eyes widen. 

“Oh.”

Sighing softly into the silence, Lexa rubs the bridge of her nose. 

“I’m sorry about that,” Anya mutters, shrinking a little into the couch under Lexa’s glare. There’s this thing about magic and boundaries that they may have to discuss at some point. But first Lexa has to get used to her sister being genuinely sorry for overstepping. Her sister, whose hands don’t stop running through the fur of a cat that has attacked the both of them and hates witches. Apparently not all witches, though.

“Would somebody please tell me what’s going on? What are you doing here?” Trying to make sense of the scene before her, Clarke lifts her arm, slowly raising a finger towards Raven. Her mouth opens but she only draws a breath and frowns, looking from Raven to Anya and back. 

“Why are you petting my friend?” she asks eventually, beating Lexa to it who is equally baffled.

Embarrassed, Anya pulls her hand away.

“We’ve been talking,” she says and squares her shoulders as if she’s coming out of a trance. “Uh ... about the, uh, curse.”

Lexa can’t help but smile as she steps closer to Clarke and puts her arm around her. Calling Anya cute to her face is too dangerous so Lexa bites down on her lips. Though right now, it’s the only fitting description. She rubs along Clarke’s arm gently. 

“I meant to tell you about it. Forgot.” She grins sheepishly, earning an affectionate look from Clarke. Lexa still feels her everywhere and she craves her touch, so she reaches for Clarke’s hand to pull it up to her lips and kiss it. She’s lost in her. So lost that she’s finally beginning to see herself again.

“Anya has been so kind to look through her books. She was hoping to find something in them that would allow her to undo my curse.” Raven stretches and looks up at Anya, blinking slowly.

“Did you find anything?” Clarke asks eagerly, pulling Lexa with her, to sit next to Anya and Raven but Anya only shakes her head.

“The curse is very strong. To undo it, you have to repeat the spell exactly and we don’t know which one was used. There are a few and most need a good bit of dark magic.” She looks past Clarke at Lexa. “It’s not the kind of magic we use.”

“Can you learn how to use it?” Clarke wonders.

Anya thinks for a moment but then shakes her head again slowly.

“It’s not a matter of learning how to use it. It’s just too risky.” She stops to stroke Raven’s head, looking down at her tenderly. “I wouldn’t want to harm her any further.”

Clarke’s shoulders fall and she sighs deeply. 

“So there’s nothing we can do?”

“Well,” Raven says, “that’s what we’ve been talking about. There’s only one person who can undo the curse, so we’ll have to go and find him. And then convince him to turn me back.” 

She spits out the last sentence, clawing into the fabric of the seating and pulling out a few threads. It leaves a hole and Clarke draws a sharp breath. Anya tuts and removes Raven’s paw gently before tapping her fingers on the hole in the couch to make it disappear. 

“I’m just _so done_ with this shape! There’s fur on my tongue the whole time,” Raven sticks out her tongue, “and my taste is completely off. I’m sleeping all day! Not to mention the hairballs because that’s just so …” Her little cat body shudders. “I do like the flexibility of this shape, but I don’t _really_ need to lick my butt.”

Lexa suppresses a snort of laughter. As funny as it seems, she can see where Raven comes from. She wouldn’t like to be stuck in another shape either. And frankly, she’s curious about what Raven really looks like.

“We _will_ find the witcher.” Anya says softly, running her fingers through Raven’s fur. “And I’m going to _make_ him turn you back. You’ll be yourself.”

“But where will we look?” Lexa wonders, her question making Anya smile quietly.

“Not _we_ , Lexa. You’re going to stay here with Clarke. This is where you should be. Raven and I will do this alone.” 

Lexa shifts a little closer to Clarke, wrapping her arms around her waist. Although this isn’t the first time she hears Anya talk about it, her stomach still plummets at the thought of the two of them separating. 

“You’re really leaving.” Her voice cracks a little, causing Clarke to turn in her arms so she can look at Lexa.

“Are you okay, baby?”

Lexa nods bravely, blinking a few times to fight back the tears. She’s prepared. It’s still not easy.

“I’m never going to leave you, little one, but I need to leave this town. And Raven,” Anya inhales deeply, “feels the same way. It’s been a long time coming. She’s stuck in her shape, and I am stuck here. What better reason is there?”

A single tear escapes Lexa’s eye and she wipes it away. She would never want her sister to be unhappy, in the same way Anya never wanted her to be unhappy. 

“I understand,” she says quietly, pulling Clarke a little closer.

As if on cue, the clock chimes, making Anya turn her head to look at it. She waits until it’s quiet again before she leans to pat Clarke’s leg.

“I’m happy for you,” she says, smiling at them genuinely. “You two belong together, you know. Lexa was a bit slow but now she caught on.” She leans even closer to Clarke, lowering her voice. “You’re going to have to be patient with her. My sister likes to complicate things too much for her own good and is going to need a strong hand at times.” 

Anya ducks and laughs when she sees Lexa lift her hand.

“Uh oh!”

Quickly, Clarke grabs Lexa’s hand but can’t stop her from shooting a bunch of sparks that twirl around Anya’s head a couple of times before they burn out with a soft crackle. Raven groans.

“Lexa!” Clarke scolds her softly and Lexa kisses her temple before putting her chin on her shoulder to look at Anya. 

“I’m going to miss you.” Lexa blinks. Her tight throat doesn’t allow for more words.

“Things change.” Anya smiles. ”They have to. And it’s good that they do. You needed the change as much as I do.”

“By the way,” Raven says suddenly, effectively changing subjects. She hops off the couch. “What’s that sad little parody of a plant doing sitting by the front door?”

Lexa glares at her. 

“How would you feel about a muzzle?” she sneers, moving her fingers slowly to produce more sparks. Clarke grabs her hand again and pushes it down gently.

“I told her to bring it,” Clarke saves Raven. “I thought maybe you could heal it.”

Smiling, Anya leans to run her hand along Raven’s back.

“She did.”

“Yeah, I felt so sorry for the little thing.” Raven strolls towards the door. “Have a look.” 

Lexa jumps up, taking a few hesitant steps towards the cat and leans to peek around the corner. There’s her little rubber tree. But it’s no longer sad and almost dying. The tree has grown to almost twice its size already, fresh leaves sprouting from new branches. It’s still growing slowly. Lexa stares at it, watching in wonder as another young leaf pushes out and grows, unfolding, turning from a bright new green to a darker, stronger, healthy color. Lexa chokes as her emotions threaten to finally overwhelm her.

Without thinking, she leans down to pick Raven up. A surprised meow is followed by a loud hissing when she presses the cat to her chest. With her nose buried in Raven’s fur, Lexa sniffles.

“I don't know how you did it. But thank you!” Rubbing Raven’s head maybe a little too harshly, Lexa laughs happily. 

“Eww! Are you serious? Let go of me or I'll scratch your eyes out!” Raven hisses even more insistently, putting her paws against Lexa’s arm and pushing away. Lexa almost drops her.

“You will not!” Anya's voice is stern and she gives Raven one of her “don’t you dare” looks. She knows what the little tree means to Lexa. Clarke has watched the scene curiously from the doorway and only now steps out into the hall. Lexa leans down a little to let Raven go before she turns and grabs Clarke to hug her as well. She almost lifts her off the ground, making Clarke squeak and then blush because of it.

“Thank you too,” Lexa murmurs, pressing a kiss to Clarke’s hair. She feels Clarke’s arms tighten, then she lets go, stepping back to put her finger against Lexa’s lips. 

“It’s all going to be okay,” she whispers only loud enough for Lexa to hear. Out of the corner of her eyes, Lexa sees Raven’s ears twitch. She’s focusing on Clarke though and the warm smile she gives her. Clarke leans in again.

“Your sister terrifies me.” She pulls a comically scary face and Lexa laughs, but she doesn’t miss the pleased look that flashes across Anya’s features at Clarke’s words. Anya pushes past them into the hallway.

“Oh, she’s alright. Once you get to know her, you’ll see she’s such a sweetheart.”

“I think I know who the sweetheart is already,” Clarke coos, her voice so soft that Lexa almost melts into a puddle again. She wants to laugh but fails and it comes out as an audible sigh. Raven snickers but not for long because Anya tuts and all Lexa can do is give in to the unstoppable force that tugs at the corners of her lips, pulling them further apart until they almost hit her ears. And she’s blushing fiercely. This kind of flattery is new to her and she doesn’t have a defense for it yet. Also, Clarke doesn’t stop to look deeply into her eyes and it’s not helping with her composure, it only makes Lexa want to lean it and kiss her and then just never stop again.

She opens her mouth because she feels the ridiculous urge to tell Clarke she loves her. The feeling is overwhelming, but she catches herself and presses her lips together. The words still twirl in her mind and float towards something even more meaningful that would be even more misplaced right now. Her mind has been an unreliable companion lately, so it doesn’t surprise Lexa when she suddenly hears Clarke’s voice in her head even though her mouth isn’t moving.

_Look at love—_

Her head begins to swim.

“We’re going to head out now,” Anya says, driving Clarke and Lexa apart as if they’ve been caught at something naughty. When Anya picks Raven up, the cat doesn’t seem to mind at all. 

“When are you coming back?”

“Well, we don’t know where to start so it’ll be a while, I guess. You’ll have to handle the coffee shop on your own.”

“Oh shit, the coffee shop!” Lexa groans.

“I heard her call you baby,” Anya smirks, giving her a wink. “Don’t act like one.”

“Let me know how you’re doing in your quest, alright?” Lexa quickly throws into the fog that’s rising up from the floor. It takes a few seconds and they’re gone, leaving Clarke and Lexa standing in the hallway on their own. Lexa sighs. Their departure was a bit sudden but Anya hates goodbyes even more than Lexa. 

“Well,” Clarke shrugs. “So much for a best friend. She never even said goodbye.”

“She’s in good hands. Literally.” Lexa grins and pulls Clarke closer again. “Now it’s just us.”

She leans to savor the kiss she’s been craving but Clarke holds her at a distance that allows her to look at Lexa.

“There’s something I need to show you.” 

She guides Lexa back into the living room, to the painting on the wall.

“You want to give me a tour now? I already know this one, Clarke.”

Clarke shakes her head silently. Something worries her, Lexa can tell. She watches Clarke chew on her lip. 

“I know there’s something different about this painting,” Lexa offers. “I saw that the first time I looked at it.”

“Yeah,” Clarke says absently. “I just don’t know how to tell you.”

Lexa steps closer to the painting. She’s still mesmerized by it. This is the closest she has ever been to it and she doesn’t have to do much. The painting wants to move, even more so with her close. It’s the same feeling she had when she first saw it. The magic is not Lexa’s, it’s inside the painting. It’s pushing out. She hears the breath before she sees it. The head rolling to the side, a depiction of ecstasy, how the body moves and the exhale comes, the body arches and the head turns towards them, eyes closed, lips parted.

“How do you do that?”

“Witchcraft,” Lexa smirks, keeping her eyes on the painting. “There’s something in there that allows me to do it. And I think you can tell me what it is.”

“It’s easier if I show you,” Clarke says, turning to run into her studio and bringing back a drawing pad.

“Look.”

She rips off the first page that already has a drawing on it and lets it sail to the floor. With her hand hovering over the new page, she glances up. Lexa still wonders why Clarke didn’t bring a pen, she suddenly sees lines appear on the paper. Slowly, an image forms, with lines moving in from all sides. 

“What the fuck, Clarke?” Lexa stammers.

“Whenever I do this, it’s the same woman. Different scenes, but always the same woman.”

Lexa stares at the drawing. A woman sitting in a plush armchair, her legs crossed. She’s reading a book, resting it on her thigh because it looks heavy. Her head is leaning to the side so that her hair has fallen into her face. 

“What the—,“ she says again but then it hits her. Focusing more deeply, she opens herself for the strange magic again and really, the hand that was resting at the bottom of the page moves up to the top corner, turning the page over.

Holy shit.

It’s her. It’s her reading in her favorite armchair at the coffee shop. The scene is not one hundred percent accurate because the book she’s reading is clearly the one Anya gave her this morning. And it was on the table when she did. But it’s her. Most definitely, the woman in the drawing is Lexa.

Which means …

Clarke’s face is pale. Lexa cups her cheek gently to lift her head and make Clarke look up at the painting above the fireplace.

Very slowly, almost seductively, the woman turns her head fully and opens her eyes, a small smile playing around her mouth.

“Oh my god,” Clarke gasps next to her, her fingers gripping Lexa’s hand so tightly, it hurts. “It’s you!”

“What are you?”

“A fairy,” Clarke whispers, her voice quivering. “I’m a fairy.”

“You’re—“ Lexa needs a moment to wrap her mind around this new bit of information. Fairies are so rare. Much rarer than witches. Laughter bubbles up Lexa’s throat and before Clarke can react, Lexa wraps her arms around her. This time, she lifts her off the floor. Clarke squeals in surprise.

“Do you know what that means?” Lexa laughs, peppering kisses across Clarke’s face.

“You’re not mad?” Clarke asks breathlessly in between kisses. “I knew you would feel something. Guess I hoped you would figure it out on your own. I’m sorry.”

“Why would I be mad? It’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s wonderful!” Lexa kisses Clarke again, now fully aware of the tingling sensation everywhere in her body. “You _really_ put a spell on me!”

“I would never,” Clarke pouts. “I’m not that strong. I’m only a quarter fairy. My grandmother was one.”

“Well,” Lexa gasps, setting Clarke back down on the floor. “That’s why I feel these things when I touch you! I can feel your magic. You’re a fairy and fairies are delicious.”

“What do you mea—”

Lexa grabs her and pulls her close, cutting off the words with a kiss. It’s sloppy and impatient, intense and overwhelming, and it only takes a heartbeat for Lexa to make up her mind and wrap her arms tightly around Clarke, taking the shortcut back upstairs.

\---

Clarke seems to have dozed off and doesn’t even stir when Lexa starts drawing small hearts on her bare back. She loves the way Clarke’s skin feels on her fingertips, like warm silk. And the more she touches her, the more comfortable she feels being this close to her, the better it feels. Their sex is amazing, even if Lexa still shies away from magic. She loves to tease Clarke a little but so does Clarke when she nibbles and bites her way across Lexa’s body, only to soothe the bites again right away. It pushes Lexa to heights she has never reached before, at least through foreplay alone. Thinking about what happens after the teasing makes Lexa press her thighs together because that part of her reacts instantly.

She spreads her fingers and draws them in again, scraping her fingernails across Clarke’s shoulder blade.

“That tickles.”

“Oh, hello,” Lexa smirks, leaning in to kiss the shoulder softly. Clarke turns her head but otherwise doesn’t move.

“Don’t tell me I wore you out,” Lexa jokes.

“You’re the one who keeps telling me we have to stop.” Clarke chuckles, shuffling closer to kiss her.

“Is it always like that?” she whispers against Lexa’s lips. “Does magic always make you horny?”

The question is innocent and adorable and makes Lexa laugh out loud.

“No, it doesn’t. Or else I’d be constantly—” she bites her lip at the thought. “It takes a little getting used to, but you can turn the intensity up and down, sort of.”

Clarke looks at her for a moment, narrowing her eyes. She puts her tongue into her cheek and makes a popping sound, then hums and nods.

“What?” Lexa asks puzzled.

“You’ve learned that really well, you cute little wit—.” The rest of her sentence gets cut off by a fit of giggles when Lexa rolls on top of her to tickle her. She stays there, wrapping her arms around Clarke as good as it goes.

“I’m just letting it flow right now. I’ve never felt anything like this before. Right now, I want all of you all the time. We can tune it down again later.”

Lexa smirks at the wide grin on Clarke's face.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I had you here on my couch. It just felt wrong to take advantage of the situation. I didn’t know what it was, but something drew me to you right away and I couldn’t fight it.”

“Did you want to fight it?”

“Well, it’s a little strange to jump someone right after meeting them,” Clarke laughs. “But stranger things have happened since then so ...”

She tries to push herself up but Lexa’s body on top of her is too heavy and she growls. There’s a hand on Lexa’s thigh followed by a sharp pain.

“Ow, you little—” 

Lexa catches a glimpse of a grin, then Clarke’s lips are on hers. She whimpers quietly, making Lexa put her arms around her to pull her close. It feels like she has melted into Clarke because she’s no longer sure she can tell them apart. Right now, she fees both of them. Their physical boundaries, their skin separating them, have become meaningless. Ever since the attack, ever since she allowed herself to really feel Clarke, Lexa has been rooted in her. The same way Clarke has been a part of her. The feeling has been there the whole time. Only now, Lexa knows why.

Clarke’s tongue pushes against her lips and when it’s granted access, she moves it along Lexa’s tongue, circling around the tip with soft, warm strokes. The tiny sounds that escape Lexa’s throat would embarrass her if they didn’t spring from this kiss. If it wasn’t Clarke pulling them from her. She turns until her body is halfway on top of Clarke. Clarke’s hands wander across her back, she puts a hand behind Lexa’s head and holds her there, deepening the kiss. Lexa is running out of breath, but she doesn't care. 

They move slowly with increasing intensity until all Lexa feels is Clarke. She inhales her scent of earth and wind and something distinctly Clarke. Stopping briefly to catch her breath, Lexa slides her cheek across Clarke’s and then back to taste her lips again. Clarke, who she wants to protect and devour at the same time. Clarke, whose hands are everywhere, moving along Lexa’s back, feeling the muscles there tense and loosen with the movements. She shifts and pulls Lexa on top of her all the way.

“I need you to touch me,” Clarke pants, breaking their kiss for air. 

Lexa’s stares at her with wide eyes. Exhaling slowly, her hand moves up to Clarke’s breast to cup it gently. Watching Clarke’s eyes close, Lexa squeezes harder, drawing a moan from her. The nipple between her fingers is already rock hard and Clarke arches her back into her hand so Lexa leans in to close her lips around the red peak. She sucks lightly, then licks it a few times with a broad tongue. In response, Clarke arches her back even more. Lexa feels hands on her butt urging her to move and she slides her thigh between Clarke’s legs, feeling the wet heat there.

Running her fingers gently along Clarke’s side, she feels her shudder. Goosebumps erupt wherever she touches her. Lexa leans in to kiss them away again with the warmth of her lips. Turning her hand, she runs her fingernails down Clarke’s belly and between her legs without missing a beat. Clarke’s eyelids flutter but stay shut and she moans when Lexa drags her finger slowly through her wetness. Keeping her hand still for a moment, Lexa closes her eyes at the sensation. Hot and wet and soft.

“I love how wet you are for me.” 

Feeling Clarke’s lust makes her head spin in the most delicious way. She’s using only one finger, taking her time to slide it down and around Clarke’s entrance, then back up to her clit. She adds another finger and starts circling the hardened button, then another one, applying more pressure. Clarke comes alive under her touch. She moans and grabs Lexa’s hair to pull her in for a deep kiss. Lexa enters her slowly with two fingers, twisting them gently and feeling her way in. Here, too, Clarke is soft and comforting.

“That’s so good.” Clarke’s husky voice does things to her and Lexa pushes her fingers in deeper. She hums at the growing heat in her belly, wondering for a split-second if she needs to turn it down. But there’s also a growing urgency to Clarke’s movements, to the sounds she’s making. Lexa closes her eyes briefly.

“Keep going. Please!” Clarke begs and moves against her hand, rolling her hips lasciviously, putting a stop to all coherent thoughts in Lexa’s head. She begins to thrust slowly and Clarke’s body responds instantly, moving her hips in perfect harmony with Lexa’s hand. Lexa can feel the wetness between her own legs. She presses them together, putting pressure on those tender parts and feels a jolt of electricity run through her body. She moans, unable to stop what’s about to happen. She moans again as a burst of light races through her arm, her hand, into Clarke, and it causes her to open her eyes. Lexa stares down into glowing, deep blue pools of raw desire.

“What are you doing?” Clarke gasps, her eyes fluttering shut again. She throws her head back, exposing her throat and Lexa bites into it, barely able to stop herself from biting down harder. She can feel Clarke’s moans under her lips, the jump of her throat when she swallows, and it spurs her on even more. 

“Oh god, I can feel you. I can—” Clarke is a moaning mess in her arms, responding to Lexa’s increasingly strong thrusts by pushing her hips up faster against Lexa’s hand. Her fingers are looking for something to hold on to and she reaches into Lexa’s hair, pulling at it. It hurts because Clarke isn’t able to control the strength of her movements and Lexa slows down. 

“Fuck, Lexa, what are you doing?”

They’re both panting, staring at each other. Lexa keeps her hand still, sending pulses into Clarke, fucking her without even moving. She can feel the heat, like a soft furnace gripping down on her fingers and she curls them, pushing them up against the rough little patch she finds part way in. She keeps her fingers still again, sending the pulse there now.

Clarke is wide open. Lexa is expanding within her and even if Clarke isn’t touching her right now, Lexa can still feel what Clarke wants to do to her. They’re both moaning and when Clarke kisses her, Lexa feels her tongue everywhere. 

She moves her fingers back up to Clarke’s clit, fully erect and eager to be touched. She circles it, sliding smoothly through lush wetness. Lexa knows they’re no longer on the bed but floating somewhere above it, held there by her powers. She knows she has wrapped them in a glow, and she does nothing to stop it, knowing that it enhances her senses even more. She leaves herself unprotected because there’s no need for protection. She has never felt safer.

There are tales about a fairy’s ability to enjoy pleasure. But not even her most vivid imaginations could have prepared Lexa for the display of passion in front of her. Clarke’s loud moans make her head giddy and focused at the same time. Lexa increases her pace, dipping her fingers into Clarke’s hot wetness once more, soaking up the way Clarke’s body twitches with each of her strong thrusts. She opens her legs wider, offering herself openly, and Lexa moves one of her own legs so that Clarke’s thigh is pressing up against her center. The sensation is intense. She starts to grind her hips, all her senses dropping into her pussy and her hand stops moving for a moment, earning her a disappointed groan.

“Don’t stop!”

Lexa can feel herself fall. She rolls her hips a few more times, feeling heat spread further inside her with every move. Watching Clarke come undone underneath her is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. She wants to worship her more, but she knows Clarke needs something different now and she does too. So she starts her movements again, applying a little more pressure to Clarke’s clit, peppering it with some extra heat. She keeps going at a steady pace, paying attention to Clarke’s breathing becoming deeper and then faster, rolling her hips against Clarke’s thigh. She feels searching fingers between her legs but that can’t be right. Unless Clarke has figured out how to touch her without using her hands. But then, she doesn’t want to care because those fingers enter her and fuck her before sliding up to circle her clit. She’s been hovering near the edge for a while now, using her skills to keep her from tipping over but this is bringing her too close. Lexa hears herself moan, all blood draining from her head to shoot into her groin and lower, leaving her dizzy, feeling animalistic, feral in her passion and all of a sudden, she wonders how much of this is Clarke because she has never felt this way before. She wants to eat Clarke and drink her, quench her sudden thirst for more of her, ingest her. Lexa knows, it has already happened. Clarke is under her skin, she’s all over her and mingled within her and it’s the most exquisite feeling Lexa has ever had. 

“I can feel you,” she hears Clarke gasp between ragged breaths, the only sound that makes it to her ears. “I feel all of you.”

“I love you,” Lexa murmurs, certain that Clarke won’t hear it through the passionate noises she’s making. She leans down and starts sucking on a nipple, pulling at it with her teeth, forcing herself to be gentle before moving over to the other one. 

Clarke’s body suddenly stills. Lexa holds her breath, slowing the pace of her fingers even more but adding more pressure, more of the pulsing Clarke seems to enjoy so much. Clarke’s mouth opens and she draws a deep breath, holding it, wrapping them in complete silence. Then a gasp escapes, followed by a long, loud, utterly obscene sound and her hips start to buckle uncontrollably. A few moments later, Lexa’s own climax thunders through her.

Glad the soft bed is under them, Lexa lets them drop onto it in a sudden need to turn off all her overloaded senses. Clarke laughs or makes some sound that resembles a laugh, scrambling back into Lexa’s arms on the mattress. Lexa pulls her in, trying to catch her breath. She has never used her magic during sex like this before. She was always worried about freaking them out. But wow, she’s been missing out.

Slowly coming down from her high, Clarke wheezes a few times. Lexa is waiting for a mischievous comment because that’s what normally happens. But when she opens her eyes, Clarke is staring at her, letting her eyes roam across Lexa’s face and back up to her eyes.

“Holy shit,” Clarke finally manages to gasp, making Lexa laugh.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“No, not that,” Clarke says and kisses her softly. “You said you love me.”

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Lexa closes her eyes, wishing she had been able to hold it back. If Clarke doesn’t ...

“Lexa?”

… love her back ...

“I love you too.”

Lexa rips open her eyes.

“You do?”

“I told you before.” Clarke starts peppering small kisses along her jaw, leaning in to whisper against Lexa’s lips. “You’re a miracle. A masterpiece. I'm just going to add some color. Although, black and white is awesome too.”

If melting into the mattress was an option, Lexa would do so instantly. But since it isn’t, rolling on top of Clarke to drown her in kisses is the next best thing to do.


End file.
